Uimi  K9iUK 


m^i 


1 


POET  AND  MERCHANT 


B./\dEF\B/^d|< 


/<k^07^ 


rrrw^rmrmmwtwmlwrttmrtnttlMUX-tlX. 


*"'"^ 


THE   LEISURE-HOUR   SERIES. 

A  collection  of  works  whose  character  ie  light  ami  entertaining,  though  not  trivial. 
While  they  are  handy  for  the  pocket  or  the  saichel.  they  lire  net,  either  in  contents  or 
appearonce,  unworthy  of  a  place  on  the  library  RhrU  £-8.     Ifimo,  cloth.     $1  per  Vol. 

8      '  GRIFFITHS,  Arthur 

I      I.OI.A. 

I  GROHMAN,  W.  A.  B. 

Gaddinc.s   with    a   Primi- 


ABOUT,  E. 

Thf  man  with  the  Bko- 
KRN  Ear. 

THE  NOTARY'S  NOSE. 

ALCESTIS.     A  Musical 

Xorel. 

ALEXANDER.  Mrs. 

the  wooing  O't. 
Which  Sham.  It  RhT 
Ralph  Wilton's  Wiiirh. 

HER  dearest  for. 

heritage  of  langdale. 
Maip,  Wife.  OR  Widow! 
the  Frekes. 
KooK  before  you  leap, 
the  admiral's  ward 

THE  executor. 

AUEBBAOH,  B. 

The  Villa  on  the  rhinh. 
a  vols,  wtth  Ptr/raie. 
BLACK      FOREST      STORIES, 
THE  I-n-n.E  BAREFOOT. 
JOSEPH  IN  THE  SNOW. 

Edelweiss. 

GERMAN  TALES. 

ON  THE  HEIGHTS,     a  Vols. 

THE  CONVICTS. 

LORLEY  AND  REINHARD. 

ALOYS. 

POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

LANUOLIN. 

WALDFKIHD. 

BRIGITTA. 

Spinoza. 

Master  bielanr 
BEERBOHM,  J. 

Wanderings  in  Patagonia 

BEERS,  HENRY  A. 

A  CENTURY  OF  AMERICAN 
LllEKATUKE. 

BESANT,  TV  alter. 
The  revolt  of  Man. 

BJORNSON,  B. 

The  Fisher-Maiden. 

BUTT,  B.  M. 

Miss  Molly. 
Eugenie. 
Dfi.icia. 

Gi.kaldinu  Hawthorn*. 
CADELL.,  Mr*.  H.  M 
Ida  craven. 


OALVERLEY,  O. 

FLY-I.HAVKS.     I'erses 

•CAVENDISH." 

Card  Fssavs.  (lays  necJsioi.s 
bikI  Car.l   laLle  I  alk. 

CHELSEA   HOUSE- 
HOLDER, A. 
CHERBULIEZ,  V. 

JOSEPH  NOIKEI.'S  revenge, 

count  kostia. 
Prosper. 
CONWAY,  HUGH. 

Cai.i.i-.d  Back. 
Dark  Dans. 
Bound   loCErHUR. 

CORKRAN.  ALICE. 

Bessie  Lang. 
CRAVEN.  Mme.  A. 

fleurange. 
CROFFUT,  "W.  A. 

A  midsummer  Lark. 
DEMOCRACY.  A  New 

Atnei-ican  Novel. 
DICKENS,  CHAS. 

THE  MuDFOG  Papers,  etc. 
DREW^,  Catharine. 

THE      LUTANISTR      OF       ST. 
JACOBI'S. 

DROZ,  QUSTAVE. 


ENAULT,   LOUIS. 

CHRIST!NF_ 

ERSKINE.  Mrs.  T. 
Wyncote. 

FOTHERGILL.  JES- 
SIE. 

Tin:  IIRST  VIOLIN. 

Probation. 
The  Wellfi elds- 
One  OF  three. 
Kith  and  Kin. 

PERIL. 

FRANCILL0  5J.  RE. 

UN1>I-K    Sl.IhVE-BAN. 

FREYTAG,  Q. 

INGO. 
INGRAHAN. 

GAUTIER.  T 

Captain  Fracasse.    Illus. 

GIFT.  THEO. 

PRI   1  TY  miss  HELI.MW. 

maid  i:  1.1  ice. 

A  MAITER-OH-FACT  C.IRL. 

GOETHE.  J.  "W   Von 

Elective  affinities. 


TivE  People. 
HARDY.  THOMAS. 

Under    the    Greenwood 

Tree. 
A  Pair  of  Blue  Eyes. 
Desperate  remedif.s. 
Far  from   the   madding 

Crowd.    Illus. 
Hand  of  Ethelberta. 
return  of  the  Native. 
THE  trumpet-Major. 
A  Laodicean.   With  lUtutr 
Two  on  a  tower. 
HEINE,  HEINRICH. 
scintillations. 
HENKEL,  FR. 

THE     MISTRESS  OF     IBICH- 
STEI.N. 

HOLLISTER,  G.  H. 

KlNl.EY    HOlI.OW. 

HOPPUS,   M.A.M. 

A   STORY  or   CARNU-AU 

HUNT.  Mrs.  A.  W^. 

THE  Leaden  Casket. 
JENKIN,  Mr».  O. 
Who  breaks -pays. 

SKIRMISHING. 
A  PSYCHE  OK  TO-DAY. 
MADAME  DE  BEAUPRK. 
JUPITER'S  DAUGHTERS. 
WITHIN  AN  ACE. 

JOHNSON.  Ro««lter. 

Pl.AV-DAY  POEMS. 

LAFFAN.  MAY. 

the  hon  mlssfhrrard. 
Christy  Cakew. 
LUCY,  HENRY  W. 

GIDEON  I'l.FVCE. 

McGRATH.  T. 

PICTURES  FROM   IRELAND. 

MAJENDIE,La<ly  M. 

GIANNETTO. 
j       DITA. 

MAXWELL,  CECIL. 

j     A  STORY  OF  THREE  SISTERS. 

I  MOLESWORTH,Mre 

HATHERCOURT. 


yrwf  >«»yy^tygKy«1IMiyilT 


LEISURE-HOUR    SERIES. 


NrRRIS.  "W    E 

Matrimony. 

HKAI'S  ur    MONF.V 

No  Nuw  TuiNi;. 
OLIPHANT,  Mr«. 

WHITEI-ADH'S. 

PALORAVE    W.  Q 

HKkMANN  AGHA. 

PARR,  LOUISA. 

Hfro  CAinHJW. 

ROMN. 

PLAYS       FOR      PRI 
VATE    ACTIKQ. 

POYNTER.  E.  F. 

My  L.ITTI-K  I.AUY 

Ersh.ia. 

Among  the  Hii.i-s. 
RICHARDSON.  8 

Clarissa  Hari.owh,    (to»<- 

RICHTER.  J.  P.  F. 

Fl.OWEK.FklUT.AND  THORN 

Pieces,    a  vols. 
Campankr  1  HAL,  etc. 
Titan.    2  vols. 

HESPHRI'S.     2  vols. 

The  iNvisibi.E  Lodge. 


(Ooiil  inuecl.t 
ROBERTS    MisB. 

I    Noblesse  <.tBi.i<;R. 

}     t»N  1  UK  i'.IK.E  OK  S  IORM. 
!      In   TUI'l  Ol.HKN     riMR. 

;  SCHMID.  H 

THE  IIAKEKMEISIRR. 

SERGEANT,  ADEL. 

j      HEVOM)   KrCALL. 

SLIP  in  the  FENS.  A    | 
SMITH.  H    and  J         1 

J    Reiecteu  apprksshs.  ' 
;  SPARHAWK,  P.  C.    — 
j    A  l,AZY  Man's  work. 
SPIELHAOEM,  F. 
What  THE  Swallow  sang, 
SPOFFORD.  H.  P. 
The  Amuer  c.qus. 
Azarian. 
;  STEVENSON.  R.  L. 
j    New  ak.miian  Nights. 
STURGIS  JULIAN. 

MV  FRIl-NUS  A.ND   I.  ^T 

THACKERAY  .^V.  M 

Early  and  Late  Papers. 
TYTLER,  O.  O.  F. 

Mistress  Judith 
Jonathan. 


TURQENIEFF.  I 

FAI  HHRS  AND  SONS. 

SMOKR. 

LIZA. 

ON  THE  KVH. 

DlMITRI  KOl'DINK. 

Siring  Floods;  Lear 
Virgin  Soil. 

VERS  DE   SOCXETB. 

VXLLARI,  LINDA. 

IN  Change  Unchanged. 
WALFORD.   L.  B. 

Mr.  Smith. 

Pauline. 

Cousins. 

troublesome  Da.  giithms. 

Dick  Nether iiy. 

TH  E  .B.VIi V'S  G  K  ANDMOTH  ER 

WINTHROP.   THEO. 

CECIL  DREEME,  If  .Portrait 

Canoe  and  Saddle. 
John  Brent. 
Kdwin  Brothertoft. 
Like  in  the  open  Air. 
WYLDE,  Katharino. 
A  Dreamer. 

YESTERDAY. 


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Literarj/  World. 

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CLASSIC    MYTHOLOCY. 

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LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES— No.  Sg 

POET  AND  MERCHANT 

A  PICTURE  OF  LIFE  FROM  THE  TIMES  OF 
MOSES  MENDELSSOHN 

BY 

BERTHOLD    AUERBACH 

Author  of  "On  the  Heights,"  "The  Villa  on  the  Rhine,"  etc. 
TRANSLATED  BY 

CHARLES  T.  BROOKS 


NEW   YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1877 


Copyright,  1877,  by 
HENRY  HOLT. 


Hermon  Smith,  Stcreotypcr, 
Ithaca  N.  Y. 


Press  of  J.  J.  Llttlo  &  Co., 
N08. 10  to  20  Astor  I'lace,  Now  York. 


MP  ■  '  ^ 


sxifoe:^ 


v 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

1— The  Guests, 1 

2— The  Sabbath, 19 

3 — Rabbi  Chanaxel,  -        -        -        -  _        _    37 

4 — All  for  tite  Bcst,    ------        56 

5 — The  Caligrapher,         ------     7G 

C — Book-Keeping  by  Double  Entry  and  Joseph  in 

Egypt,  -- 87 

7 — Exodus  from  Egypt,  -        -        -        -        -     97 

8 — Division  and  Dispersion,  -        -         -        -       111 

9 — New  Acquaintance,     ------  123 

10— Violet,    --------       136 

11— Woman's  Life,      -------  153 

12 — The  Practical  Head,        -----       170 

13 — The  Unpractical  Head,        -----  179 

14— On  New  Paths, 194 

15— De  Amicitia,        -        -        -        -        -         -         -  209 

16— De  Amore,        -------      232 

17— Poor  Souls, 251 

18 — An  Evening  with  Moses  Mendelssohn,      -         •      260 
19— Suicide, -289 


iv  CONTENTS. 

20 — Demoralization  and  Departure,       -        -        -      302 
21 — Dame  Adventure,        ------  324 

22 — Sentimental  Journeys  and  the  Prophet,  -      341 

23— The  Vagrant, -  358 

24 — Return  Home,  ------      375 

25 — Sorroavs  of  Werther,  -----  383 

26— The  Old  Bachelor, 397 

27 — Hither  and  Thither,  -----  412 

28— He  IS  Mad,  436 

29— Release,  -         -        -        -         -        -        _  449 


POET  AND  MERCHANT. 


1.— THE  GUESTS. 

«  TJE  shall  he  sioallowed  up  like  Korah!^^ 
O     "  All  the  plagues  of  Pharaoh  shall  light  upon 

him!'' 

Such  and  still  more  bitter  were  the  curses  that 
issued  from  a  group  of  beggars,  wending  their  way 
on  Friday  afternoon  toward  the  so-called  "  sleeping- 
place"  (or  lodging-house)  in  Breslau.  These  beg- 
gars, with  their  wives  and  children,  had  just  come 
from  the  Jewish  church-warden,  who  had  been  dis- 
tributing among  them  meat-tickets  for  the  next 
Sabbath. 

The  endless  banishments  and  persecutions  which 
their  race  had  suffered  had  driven  many  Jewish 
families  to  the  necessity  of  leading,  in  the  midst  of 
civilized  Europe,  like  their  forefathers  in  the  Ara- 
bian desert,  a  nomadic  life  ;  they  had  neither  home 

1 


2  POE T  AND  MER CHA NT. 

nor  fixed  abode,  but  went  their  way  begging  from 
city  to  city,  from  village  to  village,  wherever  they 
found  a  settlement  of  their  fellow-believers.  Many 
there  were  who,  for  generations  back,  could  trace 
their  ancestors  to  no  definite  dwelling-place  ;  their 
marriages  were  consummated  on  the  country  roads  by 
the  simple  transfer  of  a  ring  and  the  presence  of  two 
witnesses.  Such  a  marriage  was  perfectly  lawful 
according  to  the  original  principles  of  the  Jewish 
religion,  for  marriage,  as  a  purely  civil  contract, 
needed  no  clergyman,  and  even  by  the  clergy  was 
not  consecrated  in  the  synagogues,  but  outside  under 
a  canopy  stretched  for  the  purpose. 

It  was  a  rare  case  for  scions  of  those  beggar-fam- 
ilies to  work  their  way  out  from  the  gypsy  life; 
habit  held  them  firmly  fixed  there,  and  their  main- 
tenance was  a  perfectly  organized  thing  in  the 
churches.  These  vagrant  people  were  designated 
by  the  honorable  title  of  "Guests;"  not  till  later 
was  this  mild  expression  made  to  convey  or  cover  an 
ignominious  meaning.  In  every  place  the  settled 
families  were  obliged  to  entertain  during  the  Sab- 
bath a  greater  or  smaller,  number  of  "  guests,"  ac- 
cording to  their  ability,  and  on  Sunday  morning  pro- 
vide them  with  traveling  money.  On  week  days 
their  support  was  left  more  or  less  to  private  charity. 

The  most  thankless  ofiice  in  connection  with  this 
Sabbath-quartering  fell  to  the  church-warden,  who 
distributed  the  tickets;  he  could  not  suit  anybody; 
the  beggars  cursed  and  reviled  him, — for  it  Avas  none 
other  than  the  unhappy  almoner  who  was  the  object 
of  the  above-quoted  imprecations. 


THE  GUESTS.  8 

The  Jewish  poor-house-of -entertainment  at  Bres- 
lau  was  situated  on  Charles  Street  in  the  so-called 
fencing-school,  a  sort  of  barracks  enclosing  a  large 
area  like  a  market-place,  in  the  middle  of  which  was 
a  kind  of  store-house  of  goods,  with  a  small  tower 
and  a  striking-clock;  in  the  circumjacent  houses,  of 
which  one  row  abutted  against  the  ramparts,  lived 
forty  or  fifty  Jewish  families;  and  in  one  of  the 
court-yards  stood  the  so-called  Lissa  Synagogue,  into 
a  dirty  room  opposite  which  the  beggars  above 
mentioned  now  entered. 

"  With  whom  do  you  dine,  Schnauzcrle  *  ?  "  asked 
a  burly  fellow  with  a  rattling  in  his  throat. 

"  With  whom  do  I  dine  ?  with  whom  do  I  starve  ? 
— you'd  better  say  !  Once  more  I  say,  let  him  be 
swallowed  up  alive,  if  he  sends  me  to  Lamray  Biir, 
who  looks  like  a  time  of  famine,  and  his  wife  like  a 
smoked  herring,  such  a  great  long-legged,  raw-boned, 
sixteen-hand-high  old  cook." 

Such  was  the  answer  of  the  party  spoken  to,  a 
man  with  a  desperate  face,  who  was  further  distin- 
guished from  his  companions  by  wearing  leather 
breeches  with  broad  red  stripes  on  the  sides  and  a 
row  of  brass  buttons;  the  silver  ear-rings,  which 
peeped  out  from  under  the  black  frizzly  hair  might 
have  served  as  a  special  mark  of  his  individuality. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what ! "  said  a  little  man  with  a 
peaked  beard,  whom  they  called  Mendel  Felluhzer — • 
"  I'll  tell  you  what  !     If  you'll  give  me  two  good 

*  Or,  literally,  Snoutv,  in  allusion  to  a  protruding  moustache  giving  his  face 
the  look  of  a  dog's  nose. — 7>. 


4  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

grosclien  to  boot,  I'll  swap  with  you,  and  give  you 
my  billet  to  the  rich  widow  of  Aaron  Wolf,  who  haa 
the  richest  dried-meat  in  all  Breslau,  and  every  Sab- 
bath a  smoked  tongue  with  a  sauce  that  tastes  like 
pure  Malmsey." 

"I'll  give  you  a  groschen  and  a  half,"  replied 
Schnauzerle;  and  his  wife  howled  and  scolded  and 
beat  her  children  for  having  such  a  spendthrift  of  a 
father,  till  they  all  yelled  in  chorus. 

"  One  and  a  half  ?  "  smiled  Mendel,  "  well,  I  don't 
care;  you  see  I  hate  long  hagglings;  but  you  must 
pay  first." 

'■'  I  ha'n't  a  bloody  penny,  and  if  Amalek,  the  poll- 
tax-gatherer  should  come  and  should  say:  Victor, 
[or  Schnauzerle,  for  all  I  care],  you  may  put  my 
eyes  out  with  a  red  farthing — (Lord  knows  I'd  be 
glad  enough  to  do  it) — I  should  have  to  let  the  Titus 
run.  You're  all  witnesses,  that  till  Sunday  morning 
I  owe  one  and  a  half  good  groschen."  Mendel  shook 
his  head  negatively,  and  Schnauzerle  went  on :  "  You 
may  cut  off  my  right  ear,  ear-ring  and  all,  if  I  don't 
pay  you  honestly."  Mendel  again  shook  his  head, 
and  Victor  laid  himself  on  the  bench  behind  the  table, 
stretched  his  legs  out  and  whistled  the  Dessau  march. 

"A  good  fat  billet, 
And  a  soft  bed  at  night, 
And  a  cozy  bench, 
And  a  buxom  wench 
To  help  me  fill  it, — 
Is  my  delight  " — ^- 

declaimed  a  sly  little  man  out  of  a  corner  of  the 
ajjartment. 


THE  GUEST. 


Mr,' 


"  Stop  your  clack,  you  ninny-haTnm^';^^nerl  Lo1)g1 
Schackern,  interrupting  tlie  rhymer,  for  he  had  been 
obliged  to  laugli  at  those  verses,  and  that  made  him 
cut  a  piece  out  of  his  chin,  as  he  was  just  at  that 
moment  in  the  act  of  twitching  out  before  a  broken 
looking-glass  some  of  the  hairs  of  his  beard  with  a 
pair  of  scissors. 

The  unlucky  poet,  Israel  Possenmacher  of  Dorz- 
bach  in  Franconia,  answered  promptly: 

"Howl  of  dogs  and  tom-cats'  din 
At  the  gate  of  Heaven  will  never  get  in." 
"Whereupon,  like  a  marksman,  he  drew  his  eyelids 
down  over  his  (always  half-hidden)  little  gray  eyes, 
took  out  of  his  mouth  the  quid  of  tobacco  which  he 
was  chewing  and  threw  it  in  his  reviewer's  face, 
who  in  return  flung  at  him  the  scissors,  which  un- 
fortunately, however,  hit  a  little  maiden,  w^ho,  hold- 
ing a  violin  in  her  lap,  sat  cuddled  up  in  a  corner. 
The  child  screamed,  blood  ran  from  her  forehead, 
and  Schnauzerle  sprang  up  in  a  fury,  and  leaping 
down  from  the  table  away  over  them  all  to  his  little 
daughter,  boiling  w^ith  rage,  he  lifted  the  deathly- 
pale  child  with  one  hand  in  the  air,  while  with  the 
other  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  by-standers,  then  ho 
pressed  the  bleeding  face  of  his  child  to  his  lips,  and 
perceiving  no  longer  any  breath,  he  yelled  and  raved 
and  cursed  again  aloud,  and  swore  to  massacre  every 
one  of  them. 

"  My  best  child  !  my  best  child  !  Wait,  Lobel, 
I'll  bite  your  throat  in  two  with  my  teeth  !  She  waa 
as  gentle  as  a  lamb,  every  farthing  she  earned  by 


6  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

singing  she  brought  to  me,"  cried  Schnauzerle,  and 
his  voice  began  to  quiver. 

Meanwhile  several  had  gone  to  find  an  old  beggar- 
woman,  called  tall  Voffel,  who  came,  snatched  the 
child  from  Schnauzerle's  arms,  breathed  softly  three 
times  into  the  wound  on  the  forehead,  the  blood 
ceased  running,  she  took  a  flask  from  her  pocket, 
sprinkled  a  few  drops  on  mouth  and  temples,  the 
child  opened  her  eyes,  Schnauzerle  gave  a  scream  of 
joy  and  gave  Lobel  a  kick,  nobody  could  tell  whether 
from  rapture  or  revenge;  the  latter,  however,  took 
off  his  yellow  neck-handkerchief  and  gave  it  to  the 
old  man  as  a  bandage  for  the  child ;  he  also  unfast- 
ened his  little  gold  ear-rings  and  put  them  on  to  the 
sleeping  child,  and  to  make  all  good,  he  gave 
Schnauzerle  his  better  meat-ticket  and  took  his  poor 
one  instead.  All  at  once  an  altered  tone,  a  certain 
tenderness  of  mood,  seemed  to  have  come  over  the 
whole  company;  of  all  the  curses  and  bitter  jests 
there  was  no  longer  any  sound  or  sign.  The  sense 
of  having  just  escaped  a  calamity  excites  even  in  the 
most  hardened  natures  a  slight  shudder  of  awe,  and 
who  can  tell  how  much  of  pardonable  selfishness  may 
not  on  such  occasions  be  awakened  in  the  soul? 
Every  one  could  now  with  undisturbed  contentment 
surrender  himself  to  the  pleasure  of  the  coming  Sab- 
bath, a  great  part  of  which  would  have  been  utterly 
spoiled  if  a  little  corpse  had  been  lying  on  the  boards 
of  the  lodging-house.  All  united  in  the  praise  of 
the  little  ten-year-old  Mattie  (Matilda);  they  ex- 
tolled  her  cleverness,  her  gentle  good-nature,   and 


THE  GUESTS.  *] 

her  talent  in  singing  and  violin-playing,  and  pro- 
nounced Schnauzerle  happy  in  having  such  a  daugh- 
ter. The  child  woke  up;  all  caressed  her;  she  stood 
smiling  before  the  broken  looking-glass  and  feasted 
her  eyes  upon  the  yellow  fillet  and  the  golden  ear- 
rings; the  pale  face  and  the  delicately  formed  little 
mouth  seemed  as  if  they  had  seldom  been  lighted 
up  with  a  gleam  of  pleasure.  The  child  bound  the 
handkerchief  more  neatly  around  her  forehead,  the 
bandage  became  an  ornament,  and  with  a  graceful 
fling  and  flourish  she  skipped  out  of  the  door  to  show 
her  pretty  things  to  the  other  children. 

"That  Schnauzerle  is  a  speculating  head,"  said 
Elias  Rossnitzer,  "  that  child  may  yet  make  a  rich 
man  of  him  some  day.  It  doesn't  look  as  if  it  were 
your  child;  I  believe  you  stole  her." 

"  When  you  were  born  they  must  have  fired  a  salute 
— you  did) lH  invent  gimpowder,^'^  Ye\:)\ied  Schnauzerle; 
"  you  can  get  you  a  dog  to  eat  your  ideas  for  you. 
When  one  hasn't  enough  for  himself,  will  he  go  to 
stealing  children  for  a  luxury  ?  " 

"Some  other  folks  are  speculative  too,"  began 
•Mendel;  "if  you'll  keep  still,  I'll  show  a  little  ar- 
rangement of  mine." 

He  pulled  a  dirty  little  book  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
the  curious  by-standers  formed  a  ring  round  him,  and 
thrusting  their  thumbs  on  both  sides  into  the  arm- 
holes  of  their  waistcoats,  looked  at  the  speaker  with 
distorted  features. 

"  You  know,"  continued  the  subject  of  this  honor, 
"everybody  is  acquainted  with  me  where  two  roads 


8  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

meet,  so  I  have  laid  out  my  brokerage-business  on 
an  extensive  scale.  See  here  !  On  the  left  hand 
side  of  the  first  page  are  the  fellows,  and  on  the 
right  the  girls,  of  marriageable  age ;  we'll  leave  them 
side  by  side;  I'll  introduce  to  you  presently  the  second 
set;  on  these  leaves  you  find  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  families;  they  are  marked  with  only  one  star,  they 
are  of  middle  standing,  say  from  two  to  three  thou- 
sand dollars;  down  below  are  the  honeysweet  chil- 
dren ;  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  to  choose,  if  I  must 
choose  one  of  them.  But  the  worst  of  them  are  the 
middling  sort,  checked  off  in  the  margin  down  here ; 
they  belong  neither  exactly  above  nor  below — they're 
too  small  for  the  cart  and  too  large  for  the  wagon ;  it's 
a  troublesome  piece  of  business  till  one  gets  them 
fairly  harnessed  in.  But  now,  dear  children,  look  out! 
here  come  my  goldfish,  my  pearls,  my  sugar-plums, 
my  rose-buds ;  for  two  hundred  miles  round  there's  not 
a  young  lad  or  lass  that  I  havn't  in  my  sack.  Brothers, 
this  runs  up  high,  to  the  seventh  heaven,  even  to 
twelve  thousand  thalers  !  higher  than  that  nobody 
ever  got.  There  is  the  daughter  of  Meyer  de  Castro  in 
Hamburg,  only  fifteen  years  old,  but  a  golden  child^ 
eia:hteen  carats  fine,  who  looks  so  fresh  and  healthv 
one  could  almost  take  a  bite  of  her,  and  she  has  a 
pair  of  eyes  in  her  head,  coal-black  and  with  a  fire  in 
them — the  great  diamond  of  the  King  of  Portugal 
(I  wish  I  had  it)  can't  have  a  brighter  lustre;  a  mouth 
and  a  chin,  and  in  fact  her  whole  person — one  can't 
paint  anytliing  finer;  and,  brothers,  twelve  thou- 
sand thalers!     Dear  Lord!  if  I  liad  twelve  thousand 


THE  GUESTS.  9 

thalers,  I'd  ask  if  Breslau  were  for  sale.  I 
should  be  the  greatest  merchant  in  the  world;  I 
should  be  better  off  than  the  King  of  Prussia  !  I 
must  say,  I  pity  the  young  creature;  her  father  has 
wanted  with  all  his  might  to  get  a  scholar  for  his  son- 
in-law.  I  have  ordered  such  a  dried-up  little  Rabbi 
from  Fiirth;  I  make  a  nice  bit  of  money  by  the  op- 
eration, and  while  we  are  talking  here,  perhaps  the 
match  is  already  concluded.  —  The  double-under- 
scored one  here — that  is  the  daughter  of  Raphael 
Lobell  of  Treves;  her  name  is  Taiibchen;  she  is  one 
of  those  who  find  many  electors  and  no  purchaser — 
one  of  those  market-day  jades,  that  everybody  has 
trotted  out,  inspects  them  and  then  goes  away ;  she  is 
half-and-half  new-fashioned ;  she  parley-vous'  High- 
Gei-man  like  a  countess,  and  is  a  somewhat  consid- 
erable pei-son  withal,  only  she  has  a  bit  of  cock-a- 
doodle-doo  in  her  head.  Na  !  Well,  before  twice 
twenty-four  hours,  she's  provided  for." 

He  held  up  for  a  moment,  and  took  in  with  a  smile 
the  tribute  of  approval  from  the  surrounding  com- 
pany, and  then  proceeded: 

"  Brothers,  now  attend!  here  on  these  three  leaves 
I  have  marked  such  articles  as  are  spotted,  and  what 
one  commonly  calls  Bavel ;  *  and  there  is  the  most 
profit  on  them,  for  the  very  reason  that  such  things 
are  not  what  everybody  will  buy.  There  is  the 
daughter  of  Maier  Karp  of  Cologne;  she  has  lost  a 
shoe,  because  she  has  served  in  the  cavalry.  I've 
given  her  father  a  promise  to  get  her  a  clever  young 

*  Damaged  or  unsalable  goods. 


10  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

fellow,  and  if  he  has  nothing  but  the  shirt  on  hig 
body,  he'll  get  her,  and  a  thousand  dollars,  cash 
down,  and  a  share  of  the  business,  besides  inheriting 
some  day  a  handsome  little  property,  and  what  more 
can  one  wish  ?  There  is  the  daughter  of  the  holy 
Kabbi,  Aaron  Eftringen  of  Strasburg.  The  daugh- 
ters of  the  Eabbis  are  none  of  them  worth  a  grosehen ; 
their  parents,  from  sheer  piety,  have  no  time  to  look 
after  them;  she  is  no  more  valued  than  sour  beer, 
but  still  I've  a  husband  for  her  already;  she  gets  a 
cattle-dealer  from  Speier. — See,  here  are  the  hump- 
backed ones  whom  one  can  look  at  only  in  front,  and 
next  to  them  those  that  have  a  wen  on  the  neck  or 
some  such  superfluity;  here  are  such  as  only  look  at 
one  side-wise;  here  those  whom,  like  a  gift-hoi'se,  one 
must  not  look  in  the  mouth ;  but  here  at  last  comes 
a  capital  person;  this  one  can  do  a  feat  that  no  one 
can  come  within  a  thousand  miles  of  imitating." 

*'  What's  that  ?  "  eagerly  cried  all  the  bystanders. 

"  'WJiat''8  thatf^''  replied  Mendel,  smirkhig,  while 
he  held  his  peaked  chin  in  his  left  hand  for  some 
time  in  silence,  "why,  she  can  kiss  her  elbow,  so 
beautifully  are  her  arms  set  into  her  body.  Against 
every  married  man  I  mark  a  star  here  in  my  regis- 
ter; why  not?  I  have  been  already  cursed  more 
times  than  there  are  days  in  the  year,  but  what  of 
that?  all  I  say  is:  marriages  are  made  in  heaven, 
and  it  is  also  written:  at  the  very  same  hour  when 
one  is  born,  it  is  proclaimed  in  heaven:  such  and 
such  a  man  gets  such  and  such  a  woman — how  can 
I  help  that? — A  propos!      Don't  any  one  of  you 


THE  GUESTS.  11 

know  a  widow  or  a  half  old  maid, — but  she  must  ba 
baited  by  all  the  dogs  and  have  hair  on  her  teeth  ;— 
Veitel  Ephraim  in  Berlin  is  now  happily  a  widower, 
and  I  should  be  glad  to  hang  another  domestic  devil 
on  his  neck." 

"  Mon  cher  cousin  !  "  cried  Schnauzerle,  "  this  day 
fortnight  I  was  at  my  dear  cousin's.  I'll  soon  pluck 
a  feather  or  two  out  of  the  gold-pheasant,  that'll 
make  him  leave  off  mousing." 

"  There,  you've  got  the  right  pig  by  the  ear,"  said 
Elias  Rossnitzer;  "you  see  by  Veitel  how  things  go 
when  the  beggar  gets  on  horseback;  he  can't  carry 
his  crest  high  enough,  but  towards  whom  ?  towards 
us  ! — towards  the  gentry  he  can  bow  and  duck,  as  if 
his  joints  were  all  fish-bone.  I  guess  we  all  know 
his  hens  and  his  geese;  his  father  was  not  a  bit 
more  or  less  than  one  of  us;  he  has  always  taken 
what  has  been  given  him,  and  what  has  not  been 
given  him. 

"  There  was  his  sister  Sara  that's  dead  now — the 
wife  of  the  rich  Moses  Daniel  Kuh  near  by  here, — 
she  hadn't  a  drop  of  shabby  blood  in  her  veins;  that 
was  the  best  ticket  in  all  Breslau;  she  was  a  real 
lady,  such  a  one  as  the  Thora  [Holy  Scripture]  speaks 
of:  ichoever  goes  into  her  hoicse  hungry,  conies  out 
well-filledr 

"I  wish  such  a  woman  would  die  every  day," 
growled  David  Schmalznudel.  "I  happened  to  be 
here  just  as  she  was  buried;  a  good  deal  of  money 
was  distributed  among  the  poor  in  the  good-place 
[church-yard],  every  one,  I  think,  got  a  dollar  and 


1 2  POE  T  AND  MER CHANT. 

two  or  three  good  groschen  over;  she  had  had  thirty 
gokl  ducats  lying  with  her  grave-clothes,  witli  di- 
rections that,  at  her  funeral,  they  should  be  dis- 
tributed among  the  poor." 

**When  her  last-born  in  the  cradle  lay, 
Did  I  not  sing  to  the  child  and  say  : 
He  must  not  shed  too  many  tears 
If  sorrow  should  come  in  after  years. 
Believe  me,  brothers,  a  rarer  sport 
Was  never  seen  at  King  Arthur's  court, 
Nor  finer  songs  went  round  the  board, 
Nor  ever  a  nobler  wine  was  poured. 
But  oh,  that  Veitel,  the  scape-grace. 
He  always  wore  a  sour  face, 
And  yet  I  do  not  hate  him — oh  no  ! 
Only  you  see  I  love  him  so, 
I  wish  I  had  so?nething  that  would  be 
As  good  for  him  as  it  would  for  me  " — 

declaimed  again  the  sly  little  man  from  the  corner 
of  the  room. 

"What  is  that  youVl  like?"  all  with  one  voice  in- 
terrupted the  happy  improvisator  of  rhymes. 
"A  keg  of  powder — that  would  be 
As  good  a  joke  for  him  as  for  me." 

"  Far  too  expensive  a  luxury,"  remarked  Schnau- 
zerle,  yawning,  "  but,  brothers,  Mendel  has  set  me 
upon  a  speculative  track;  you  shall  hear  presently 
what  I  have  in  hand." 

At  that  moment,  a  blow  with  a  wooden  hammer, 
four  times  repeated  on  the  house-door,  gave  the  sig- 
nal that  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  synagogue.  Tlie 
beggars  started,  but  at  the  door  a  Pole  encountered 
them,  who  was  just  in  the  act  of  making  a  hasty  en- 


THE  GUESTS.  13 

trance.  Schnauzerle  turned  round  and  seizing  the 
stranger  by  the  coat,  asked  liim: 

"  Kabbi,  can't  you  get  me  a  copy  of  the  Sixth 
Book  of  JNIoses  ?  A  treasure-digger  has  promised  me 
twenty  dollars  for  one;  you  shall  be  paid  for  your 
trouble,  if  you  can  procure  me  the  Sixth  Book  of 
Moses." 

"  Are  not  five  enough  for  you  ?  "  answered  the  Pole, 
angrily,  and  immediately  departed,  so  soon  as  the 
matron  of  the  shelter  had  insured  him  a  night's 
lodging. 

"  You  see,  Sary,"  said  the  matron  to  her  daughter, 
a  girl  of  eighteen,  who  had  been  scouring  the  room 
and  now  stood  at  the  window,  her  eyes  red  with 
weeping,  and  gazed  out  into  the  snow-flurry, — "  you 
see,  the  proverb  says: 

'  'Twixt  guests  and  servants,  bewildrin'. 
Small  chance  for  the  poor  children.' 

And  now  you  have  heard  a  proof  of  its  truth." 

Sary  turned  round  and  wiped  a  tear  from  her  eye 
with  her  apron.  Mattie,  the  wounded  child,  came 
in  and  played  on  the  violin;  the  matron  took  the  in- 
strument out  of  the  child's  hands  and  struck  her. 
"  Don't  you  know  it  is  the  Sabbath  now,  and  no 
music  is  allowed  on  the  Sabbath  ? "  said  she.  The 
two  girls  went  silently  out  of  the  door;  the  old 
mother  spread  white  linen  on  the  table,  and  lighted, 
praying  the  while,  her  seven  Sabbath-lights,  and 
spreading  out  her  two  hands  pronounced  a  blessing 
upon  the  candles. 


14  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Quiet  and  friendly  neatness  reigned  now  in  the 
sabbatically-illuminated  apartment. 

Scbnauzerle  and  his  comrades,  meanwliile,  were 
standing  in  the  synagogue,  not  far  from  the  entrance; 
they  kept  up  an  incessant  chattering  during  the 
prayer,  criticising  the  members  of  the  holy  congre- 
gation of  Breslau,  as,  with  profound  bows  and  a  low 
murmuring,  they  betook  themselves  to  their  seats. 

"  Do  you  see,"  said  Schnauzerle  to  Mendel  Fel- 
luhzer,  "  that  tall  Meier  Lammle  dawdling  along  ? 
he  does  well  to  hide  his  thievish  hands  in  a  fox-skin 
muff.  Couldn't  find  anything  else  to  steal,  so  he  stole 
himself  away  from  Warsaw.  Ha!  that  Moses 
Ganz  bends  down  right  bravely;  is  it  your  gallows 
crooks  you  over  so,  which  is  branded  upon  your 
back?  Sacre  noon  de  iJieu !  there  comes  Levi 
Wolf;  he  steps  off  as  if  he  had  pinchbeck  feet,  in- 
stead of  four  pinchbeck  watches  in  his  pocket,  which 
he  is  going  to  sell  for  gold  ones;  see,  out  of  each 
pocket  hangs  a  seal:  I  believe,  if  ever  our  Lord 
God  should  no  longer  know  what  time  it  is,  that  Levi 
Wolf  would  sell  him  a  watch  and  gabble  Plim  into 
taking  pinchbeck  for  gold  eighteen  carats  fine.  The 
best  trade  after  all  is  that  of  a  Rabbin;  to  soldier  and 
pray,  that  is  all  a  very  easy  business;  it  is  true  Rab- 
bin Tobias  is  a  fine  man,  but  the  devil  may  thank  hira 
for  that;  a  great  art,  forsooth,  to  sit  at  table  all  the 
year  round  with  enough  to  eat  and  drink  and  a  hand- 
some wife! — heart!  Avhat  more  do  you  want  ?  If  that 
were  my  case,  I'd  be  as  pious  as  the  prophet  Elias 
himself." 


THE  GUESTS^^  15 

"  Hold  your  scurrilous  jaw,  will  >'^i^jotr  arc  a 
great  hand  for  sticking  nicknames  on  to  every&ody," 
cried  Maier  Schmalznudel,  and  Schnauzerle  kept  still 
awhile,  for  many  others  as  well  as  the  Pole,  hissed 
Silence  ! 

The  Pole  stood  aside  in  a  corner,  far  from  the 
other  beggars.  The  blazing  brass  lamps,  which  hung 
down  in  long  chains  from  the  ceiling  of  the  syna- 
gogue, but  faintly  illuminated  the  form  of  the  singu- 
lar stranger.  He  maintained  during  the  whole  prayer 
a  bending  attitude,  keeping  the  upper  part  of  liis 
body  the  while  in  a  steady  and  measured  oscillation. 
When  the  schema  (Deut.  VI,  4-10  and  XI,  13—21) 
was  chanted,  he  raised  himself  high  on  his  toes, 
clasped  his  hands  spasmodically  over  his  head,  com- 
pressed his  lips  tightly,  drew  down  his  eyelids,  and 
with  a  long  deep  inspiration  sought  to  excite  himself 
to  an  intense  ecstasy.  It  was  as  if,  challenged  by 
this  acknowledgment  to  the  only  God,  a  whole  host 
of  thoughts,  doubts,  sorrows  and  hopes  contended 
together  in  a  mingling  throng  upon  his  face.  He 
stroked  himself  slowly  with  his  left  hand  from  brow 
to  chin,  and  a  cleared  and  calm,  almost  radiant,  ex- 
pression again  came  to  the  front  upon  his  counte- 
nance; he  played  carelessly  with  his  rich,  black  beard, 
which,  flowing  down  in  neatly  curled  locks  from  the 
temples,  formed  a  setting  to  the  contour  of  his  fresh 
and  manly  face.  The  small  mouth  was  all  enclosed 
with  coal-black  hair,  which  covered  even  the  chin;  a 
finely  chiseled  aquiline  nose,  somewhat  prominently 
projecting,  imparted  to  the  physiognomy  a  peculiar 


16  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

and  characteristic  foreign  and  oriental  expression: 
the  dark-glowing  eye,  shaded  with  long  lashes,  and 
the  fine  sweep  of  the  rich  brows  that  darkly  arched 
over  them,  betrayed  an  intense,  but  repressed  and  sul- 
lenly silent,  passion;  the  broad  bonnet  sat  more  on 
his  neck  than  on  his  head,  and  exposed  the  high  lily- 
white  forehead,  copiously  marked  with  the  scars  of 
thought,  to  full  view;  not  in  open  battle,  in  the  face 
of  nations,  did  these  honorable  scars  seem  to  have 
been  won;  the  thorny  crown  of  a  solitary  and  out- 
lawed warfare  had  with  its  shaii?  spines  torn  these 
wounds. 

The  precentor  had  complacently  drawled  off  his 
songs,  Avhich  were  an  odd  compound  of  sacred  mel- 
odies and  street-ballads;  he  troubled  himself  very 
little  about  the  assembled  hearers,  who,  in  perpetual 
motion,  trotted  to  and  fro  before  their  desks,  and 
blew  into  their  hands  to  keep  them  warm.  And 
now,  swinging  backward  and  forward  before  his 
pulpit,  and  with  an  unrestrained  familiarity  smooth- 
ing out  his  rumpled  felt-cap,  he  sang  the  closing 
strain.  The  congregation  meanwhile  was  already  in 
full  motion,  only  holding  in  at  the  door  of  the  syn- 
agogue to  seal  the  conclusion  of  the  prayer  with  a 
general  Amen;  the  children  must  say  the  Amen  par- 
ticularly loud,  for  the  Talmud  significantly  teaches: 
Upon  the  Amen  of  little  children  the  world  rests. 

At  this  moment  a  large,  stout  man,  leading  a  boy 
by  the  hand,  left  his  place,  which  was  immediately 
beside  that  of  the  precentor,  and  walked  toward  the 
door.     All  anticipated  him  with  the  salutation,   "  A 


THE  GUESTS.  1  V 

good  Schabbes,"  (Sabbath)  and  with  a  friendly  good- 
will he  immediately  returned  the  greeting;  at  the 
door  there  was  a  great  crowding;  all  reverentially 
made  way  for  the  great  man  and  even  the  Pole  gave 
him  a  lowly  greeting. 

"  Have  you  already  received  your  invitation  ? " 
the  great  man  said  to  him. 

"  I  only  arrived  this  Sabbath,  and  so  have  not  yet 
had  time,"  answered  the  Pole,  in  bad  German, 
somewhat  disfigured  with  Hebrew  phrases. 

"  Well !  then  come  with  me,"  the  other  replied. 
"  There  are  no  two  ways  about  it,  I  mean  to  be  a 
Pole,"  cried  Schnauzerle,  when  the  crowd  had  melted 
away;  "  the  goat's  beard  is  sure  to  get  the  best  crib  ! 
Don't  you  know  him  then  ?  that  is  the  rich  Moses 
Daniel  Kuh,  who  has  got  him  by  the  halter.  I  once 
heard  say,  that  at  the  creation,  our  Lord  God  pickled 
the  leviathan,  as  a  delicacy  for  the  saints  in  the  next 
world;  I  believe,  if  we  ever  get  there,  the  Poles  will 
contrive  to  eat  the  flesh  and  leave  us  all  the  bones." 
"  I  would  gladly  have  stopped  at  Moses  Daniel's," 
said  Mendel  Felluhzer;  "  I  should  then  have  had  a 
fine  chance  to  intimate  to  him  that  I  have  a  grand 
match  for  his  eldest  son." 

The  crooked  Meierle,  w^ho,  as  sexton,  came  out  last 
and  shut  up  the  synagogue,  stirred  up  still  more  the 
envy  of  the  beggars  and  inwardly  feasted  himself 
upon  their  curses  and  imprecations  which  they  ex- 
ploded upon  the  Poles,  as  "  God's  body-guard." 

The  Polish  tramps  had,  by  specious  and  real  learn- 
ing and  piety,  contracted  in  some  measure  the  aspect; 
2 


18  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

of  mendicant  monks,  and  were  by  their  lay-brothers 
in  the  German  Empire  envied  and  hated  in  manifold 
ways.  To  this  was  added,  that  in  tlie  Jewish  district 
also,  a  gradation  according  to  nationality  of  honors 
had  become  established;  as  the  more  eminent  Por- 
tuguese Jews  looked  with  contempt  upon  the  Ger- 
mans, the  Germans,  in  turn,  held  toward  the  Polish 
Jews  the  same  attitude. 

Under  the  common  yoke  are  still  the  degrees  of 
higher  and  lower. 

And  as,  according  to  the  legend,  even  the  damned 
in  hell  have  rest  on  the  Sabbath,  so  seemed,  at  last, 
the  envious  and  calumnious  spirits  in  the  beggars 
silenced,  as  they  betook  themselves  to  their  several 
homes. 


2.— THE  SABBATH. 

THE  Pole,  answering  as  he  went  along  the  usual 
questions  about  his  adventures  and  his  antece- 
dents, had  gone  with  his  entertainer  to  the  latter's 
house.  The  nature  of  these  questions  had  already- 
convinced  the  Pole  that  he  had  a  layman  to  deal  with; 
for  from  the  old  time  when  God  with  his  angels 
came  to  be  a  guest  to  Abraham,  the  pious  principle 
has  continued  that  not  till  after  the  guest  has  eaten 
and  drunk  to  his  satisfaction,  is  one  allowed  to  ask 
his  name  and  lineage;  and  for  these  modern  times, 
when  miracles  have  ceased,  it  is  further  specially 
added  that  one  shall  exercise  benevolence  without 
asking  questions,  in  order  that  its  purity  may  not  be 
impaired  by  his  knowing  whether  he  is  harboring  or 
not  an  enemy  or  a  transgressor. 

The  handsomely  built  house  of  Moses  Daniel  stood 
close  by  the  so-called  fencing-school;  the  keeping- 
room  was  sabbatically  adorned ;  the  savory  smell  of 
the  viands  cooking  in  the  stove-pans,  which  diffused 
itself  through  the  whole  apartment,  might  if  possible 
have  redoubled  the  Pole's  appetite. 


20  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"  Two  demons  accompany  man  on  Friday  evening 
home  from  the  synagogue.  If  they  find  the  table 
spread,  the  lights  burning  and  all  well  arranged, 
then  the  good  demon  says:  God  grant  that  all  may 
be  so  again  on  the  next  Sabbath;  and  the  evil  demon, 
against  his  will,  has  to  say  Amen  to  it.  But  if  it  is 
otherwise,  then  the  good  demon  must  in  like  man- 
ner say  Amen  to  the  wish  of  the  bad  one."  Such  is 
the  teaching  of  the  Talmud. 

Rubbing  his  hands  together  complacently,  Moses 
Daniel,  with  his  four  sons,  paced  round  the  table,  and 
sang  to  a  cheerful  and  solemn  melody  the  Hebrew 
prayer  of  acknowledgment: 

"Welcome,  ye  Spirits, 
Sent  by  your  Master, 
King  of  all  Kings, 
Lord  and  Maker  of  all." 

The  Pole  sat  down  on  the  wooden  bench  which 
stood  before  the  hot  stove,  and  hummed,  in  like  man- 
ner, his  prayer  to  himself  in  a  low  tone;  and  now  he 
had  leisure  the  while  to  examine  attentively  his  en- 
vironment. Exactly  over  the  middle  of  the  table 
hung  a  brass  lamp,  provided  with  many  ornamental 
appendages,  and  seven  lights  burned  in  its  circularly 
projecting  sockets;  and  beside  these  stood  two  silver 
candle-sticks,  with  lighted  wax  candles,  on  the  table ; 
brightly  glistened  the  pewter  platters  on  the  red- 
flower-embroidered  linen,  and  before  every  plate 
stood  a  huge  goblet.  The  Pole  observed  that  no 
mention  was  made,  in  any  quarter,  of  him,  nor  any 
preparation  for  seating  him  at  the  table.     Already 


THE  SABBATH.  21 

in  silence  he  began  to  murmur  at  the  prospect  of 
being  left  in  the  background,  perliaps  of  liaving  to 
eat  at  a  side  table,  or  even,  according  to  a  new  fash- 
ion fast  prevailing,  in  the  kitchen.  He  knew  not 
that  here  it  was  an  old  hereditary  usage  of  the  house 
every  Sabbath  to  keep  two  covers  open  for  any 
friends  or  poor  persons  who  might  happen  in.  How 
joyful,  therefore,  was  his  astonishment,  when,  after 
the  washing  of  hands,  he  was,  by  silent  gestures  (for 
no  one,  from  this  time  forward  until  the  blessing  was 
pronounced  over  the  bread  and  wine,  was  allowed  to 
speak  a  profane  word)  motioned  to  his  place,  imme- 
diately beside  tliat  of  the  master  of  the  house. 
Now  all  the  goblets  were  filled,  each  grasped  the  one 
set  before  him  and  held  it  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand, 
enclosing  it  with  his  fingers  claw-wise,  so  as  to  form 
a  mystical  sign.  All  now  solemnly  arose;  the  master 
of  the  house  pronounced  aloud  the  consecrating  bless- 
ing, which  all  present  in  a  low  tone  repeated  after 
him;  then  they  sat  down  again,  and  after  another 
blessing  each  drank  some  drops  out  of  his  goblet. 
Thereupon  the  master  of  the  house  laid  aside  the 
napkin  placed  before  him,  and  lifted  in  the  air  the 
two  uncovered  loaves,  which  were  twisted  length- 
wise and  strewed  with  poppy  grains;  choosing  the 
goodlier  one,  he  cut  off  a  piece  of  it,  once  more  said 
a  blessing,  and  broke  a  bit  for  himself  and  one  for 
each  of  the  company.  Now,  at  length,  they  could 
speak  again  and  sit  down  with  content.  The  maid, 
sitting  at  the  table,  rose  up  to  take  the  soup  out  of 
the  oven,  pour  it  out  into  a  dish  on  the  w^ooden  bench 


22  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

and  place  it  smoking  on  the  table,  so  that  the  lights 
in  the  lamps  only  dimly  glimmered  through  the  as- 
cending cloud  of  steam.  The  master  of  the  house 
had  also  stood  up  to  take  off  his  heavy  three-cor- 
nered hat,  retaining  on  his  head  only  the  peaked  cap, 
which  it  had  half  hidden;  the  long-skirted,  reddish 
frock  coat  was  exchanged  for  a  quilted  waistcoat; 
the  great  buckled  shoes  gave  place  to  green  slippers. 
Now  at  last  one  could  sit  down  contentedly  at  table. 
Dumpling-soup,  sour  fishes  with  almonds  and  raisins, 
meat,  sausages  and  sweetly  seasoned  onions  were 
consumed  amidst  familiar  conversation.  The 
"  Schabbes-maid,"  an  old  wrinkled  Christian  woman, 
had  sat  cowering  behind  the  stove,  eating  of  the 
dishes  which  were  brought  to  her;  only  sometimes 
she  crept  forth  from  behind  the  stove  and  came  un- 
bidden to  the  table  to  trim  the  lights.  The  meagre, 
wasted  form  of  the  old  Crescentia  contrasted  singu- 
larly with  the  comfortable  and  cheerfully  lighted  as- 
pect of  the  whole  surrounding.  None  present  seemed, 
however,  to  think  of  that,  for  when  the  dinner  was 
over,  washing  water  was  handed  round,  and  the 
whole  family  sang  several  festive  songs  to  old  airs; 
the  master  of  the  house  forthwith  said  the  long  grace 
with  a  loud  voice,  during  which  he  held  the  goblet 
up  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  then  drank  again  of 
the  wine,  spake  in  a  low  tone  one  more  closing  bene- 
diction, and  finally  all  rose  from  the  table. 

"  One  must  not  betray  to  any  out  of  the  fold  what 
a  blessedness  such  a  Friday  night  is.  Even  if  the 
Christian  has  everything  else,"  said  his  host  to  the 


THE  SABBATH.  23 

Pole,  "  even  if  he  wants  nothing  wliich  can  make  life 
agreeable  this  side  of  Heaven,  one  thing  he  lacks, 
which  I  would  not  exchange  with  him  for  all  his  en- 
joyments, and  that  one  thing  is:  such  a  Sabbath  and 
such  a  Friday  evening;  when  one  has  fagged  himself 
out  the  whole  week,  so  that  he  hardly  knows  where 
his  head  is,  then  comes  Friday  evening;  all  cares  and 
torments  are  gone,  one  is  an  entirely  fresh  man ;  and 
not  only  with  me  is  it  so:  the  poor  among  the  poor, 
who  has  hardly  salt  for  an  ^g^^  who  the  whole  week 
through  has  dragged  himself  round  in  wind  and 
weather,  almost  bent  double,  and  must  let  himself  be 
kicked  and  spit  upon  by  every  boor  so  that  he  may 
earn  a  couple  of  farthings,  who  all  the  week  long  has 
not  a  warm  bit,  nothing  but  dry  bread  and  a  glass  of 
schnaps,  in  a  better  case  only  roast  potatoes  or  at 
the  very  best  a  cup  of  coffee; — how  could  he  stand  it 
without  a  Sabbath  ?  But  Friday  evening  comes,  and 
he  sits  at  home  in  his  keeping-room,  makes  himself 
comfortable,  and  refreshes  himself  again  till  Sunday 
morning,  then  takes  his  staff  in  hand,  and  his  bundle 
on  his  back,  kisses  the  holy  law  which  is  written  on 
the  door-posts,*  the  wife  stands  on  the  threshold  and 
prays  softly  the  '  God  bless  thee  and  keep  thee,'  but 
he  goes  on  his  way,  takes  his  prayer-book  out  of  his 
pocket,  hums  to  himself  the  pious  traveler's-songs, 
and  so  enters  again  upon  his  painful  pilgrimage." 

The  Pole  shrewdly  calculated:     "Whoever  with 
such  reflecting  self-consciousness  surveys  the  neces- 

*The  Jews  have,  attached  to  all  their  doors,  in  little  capsules,  various  pas- 
sages of  Scripture  written  on  parchment 


24  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

sity  and  relations  of  things,  must  know  a  point  of 
view  beyond  and  above  them,  or  j^erhaps  have 
sucli  within  himself;  to  him  an  outlook  into  a  larger 
life  must  already  have  been  opened."  With  cau- 
tious Hebrew  turns  he  responded  how  delightful  it 
was  to  find  that  the  individual  man  and  whole  classes 
always  grow  into  their  conditions;  at  first  the  shoe 
often  jjinched,  but  gradually  the  toes  crooked  and 
crippled  themselves  to  it,  and  in  this  way  one  learned 
by  degrees  to  run  well  and  even  to  dance. 

The  cunning  Rabbi  had,  however,  reckoned  falsely, 
for  Moses  Daniel  shook  his  head  with  a  dissatisfied 
air,  whether  because  he  understood  not,  or  because 
he  disapproved  the  words,  was  uncertain. 

"  A  second  soul  enters  into  the  body  on  the  Sab- 
bath,— that  is  a  striking  sentence  of  our  wise  men," 
(church  fathers)  the  host  resumed. 

The  Pole  fell  in  with  his  assent  in  a  tone  of  solemn 
pathos,  and  remembering  his  traditionary  duty,  as 
learned  guest,  to  speak  out  of  God's  word  for  the 
edification  of  the  house,  he  quickly  quoted,  with  a 
reference  to  the  page,  a  variety  of  proof -texts  from 
the  Talmud,  particularly  that  memorable  saying  from 
the  Tractate  on  the  Sabbath,  Fol.  73:  "If  Israel 
should  only  hallow  one  Sabbath  with  all  its  observ- 
ances, the  Messiah  must  needs  come."  lie  ex- 
plained this  to  mean,  that  if  men  could  bring  them- 
selves for  a  single  day  to  put  away  all  worldly 
anxiety  and  all  confusion  of  heart,  to  be  of  one  mind 
and  to  feel  themselves  purely  in  God,  the  Messiah 
would  already  have  come  and  must  also  come  out- 


THE  SABBATH.  25 

"warclly. — Again,  however,  it  was  unmistakable  tliat 
the  much  extolled  ingenuity  of  Talmudic  exposition 
here  also  missed  the  mark;  he  only  added  further 
how,  according  to  the  interpretation  of  the  wise  men 
the  Sabbath  was  an  emblem  of,  as  well  as  preparation 
for,  the  eternal  rest  in  the  kingdom  of  blessedness, 
and  began  thereupon  to  relate  some  wonderful  ex- 
amples of  the  inexplicable  magic  power  of  the  Sab- 
bath. 

"  In  Spain  the  monks  had  in  old  times  a  tribunal 
called  the  Inquisition;  by  which  all  Jews  were  com- 
pelled either  to  be  baptized  or  to  languish  for  years 
in  prison,  and  finally  to  be  burned.  Once  a  holy 
Rabbi  was  immured  in  a  subterranean  hole,  where 
not  a  ray  of  light  could  reach  him,  so  that  he  knew 
not  when  it  was  day  or  when  it  was  night.  Nothing 
tormented  him  so  much  as  the  thought  that  he  Avas 
now  hindered  from  celebrating  the  Sabbath  with 
song  and  prayer,  as  he  had  been  wont  to  do  from  his 
youth  up;  beside  this  an  almost  unconquerable 
longing  for  his  cigarettes  caused  him  much  heart- 
felt pain.  To  breathe  in  and  out  tobacco  smoke  was 
to  him  almost  as  necessary  as  air  is  to  men  in  gen- 
eral; he  worried  and  reproached  himself  that  lie 
could  not  conquer  this  passion,  when,  all  at  once,  he 
perceived  that  it  suddenly  vanished;  a  voice  said 
within  him:  '  Now  it  is  Friday  evening  !  for  this  was 
always  the  hour  when  my  longing  for  a  thing  for- 
bidden at  this  season  regularly  left  me.'  Joyfully  he 
rose  up  and  with  loud  voice  thanked  God  and  blessed 
the  Sabbath  day.  So  it  went  on  from  week  to  week; 
the  longing  for  tobacco  regularly  tormented  him  and 


26    .  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

regularly  vanished  at  the  coming  in  of  the  Sab- 
bath.— In  our  days,  however,  as  great  miracles  hap- 
pen. I  myself  knew  a  miser  in  Cracow — he  is  dead 
now — who  all  through  the  week  had  a  heart  like 
Amalek,  but  on  the  Sabbath  he  was  mercy  and  gen- 
erosity itself." 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing  !  "  cried  the  boy,  named 
Ephraim,  who  had  been  attentively  listening,  "any- 
body can  be  as  good  as  that,  for  on  the  Sabbath 
one  is  not  permitted  to  give  or  even  bind  himself  by 
a  promise  to  give  anything  to  anybody." 

The  father  reproved  the  pert  boy's  forwardness, 
but  the  Pole  pinched  his  cheek  good-naturedly  after 
the  manner  of  the  Rabbins,  and  after  a  short  pause 
continued:  "  In  Posen,  I  have  heard  tell,  there  still 
lives  an  old  woman  who,  as  soon  as  the  Sabbath 
comes  in,  and  as  long  as  it  lasts,  can  dispute  with 
the  Rabbins  upon  the  most  mysterious  teachings  of 
the  Talmud  and  the  Cabbala,  but  at  the  expiration 
of  the  Sabbath  becomes  again  the  simple  ignorant 
woman  of  yesterday.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
river  Sambatjon,  which  all  the  week  throws  out  fiery 
stones,  on  the  Sabbath  is  quiet.  Having  just  spoken 
of  Posen  reminds  me,  have  you  heard  yet  of  the 
resurrection  affair  said  to  have  occurred  there  last 
atonement  day  ?  " 

"  No,  what  was  it  ?  " 

"  You  know  that  v/hen  the  dead  are  laid  in  the 
grave,  they  are  clad  in  a  white  linen  death-robe,  and 
the  Tallis  *  spread  over  the  head;  for  so  they  must  ap- 

*  A  white  woolen  prayer-mantle  edged  at  the  bottom  with  blue  stripes. 


THE  SABBATir.  27 


v.- .,  J. 


pear  before  the  juclgment  seat  of  GfojJ*  ^oa  ilic  <iay  of 
Atonement  we  all  regard  ourselves  as  (lea<i  or  dying, 
and  clothed  in  the  same  dresses  as  the  dead,  we  ap- 
pear before  the  face  of  the  Lord  in  the  synagogue. 
ISuch  is  the  custom  in  all  countries. 

"It  was  atonement  eve;  the  whole  congregation 
of  Fosen  stood  in  the  synagogue  in  their  grave- 
clothes,  the  head  veiled  with  the  tallis,  ready  for 
prayer  and  humiliation.  Suddenly  all  felt  an  inde- 
scribable squeezing  and  pushing,  they  felt  as  if 
pressed  by  demons;  the  sweat  ran  down  from  them 
in  streams,  and  all  their  limbs  were  as  if  lamed;  so 
crowded,  crammed  full  was  the  whole  synagogue, 
that  a  needle  could  not  have  dropped  to  the  ground. 
The  synagogue  could  have  held  more  than  thrice  the 
whole  population  of  Posen;  this  press  was  inexpli- 
cable. Many  turned  to  their  neighbors  to  express 
their  astonishment  at  the  thing,  but  these  stood 
veiled,  motionless,  speechless.  The  Rabbi  pro- 
nounced the  first  prayer,  an  Amen  as  if  uttered  by 
millions  of  voices  rang  through  the  building;  the 
walls  began  to  tremble,  thereupon  it  was  still;  all 
present  felt  as  if  throttled.  Then  there  sounded  a 
voice  from  Heaven:  The  dead  are  risen,  they  stand 
in  the  midst  of  you,  to  pray  with  you  ! — As  if  struck 
by  lightning,  every  one  felt  that  he  must  sink  to  the 
earth,  but  it  was  as  if  invisible  hands  lifted  them 
up  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  and  wrung  from  them 
the  sweat  of  agony.  Xo  one  dared  to  lift  his  eyes  or 
open  his  mouth,  for  everyone  feared  the  veiled  skel- 
eton that  stood  beside  him.     All  was  as  silent  as  the 


28  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

grave.  At  last  the  Rabbi  raised  himself  up  and  by 
the  ineffable  name  of  the  All-merciful  conjured  the 
dead  to  depart  thence;  a  distant  Hallelujah  was 
faintly  heard,  and  the  congregation  stood  there 
again  calm  and  undisturbed." 

"  Look,  father  !  there  are  three  lights  in  the  lamp 
going  out  at  once  !  "  cried  Ephraim.  Moses  Daniel 
was  for  a  moment  violently  startled,  but  quickly 
collected  himself  and  gave  the  boy  a  box  on  tlie  ear, 
because  it  endangers  one's  life  to  look  at  the  extinc- 
tion of  a  light,  for  that  is  like  the  decease  of  a  mor- 
tal and  may  by  being  looked  upon  and  "  called  out  " 
become  a  premonition.  In  fact,  however,  Moses 
Daniel,  besides  being  agitated  by  the  Pole's  narra- 
tive, had,  by  the  sudden  and  significant  extinction 
of  three  lights,  been  affected  with  awe.  The  further 
explanation  of  the  Pole,  that  since  that  occurrence 
they  were  no  longer  permitted  in  the  synagogue  of 
Posen  to  wear  death-robes,  he  heard  with  only  a  di- 
vided attention;  such  a  thing  seemed  to  him,  how- 
ever, a  sin,  and  he  bethought  himself  now  in  good 
time  that  he  must  show  this  pearl  of  a  scholar  to 
the  Rabbin  who  lived  in  his  neighborhood. 

"  We  must  not  fail  to  go  over  to  the  Rabbin's," 
said  he,  putting  on  his  hat  and  coat,  but  his  look 
meanwhile  glanced  round  in  a  manner  that  seemed 
to  imply  a  still  further  meaning  in  his  words.  Old 
Crescentia  behind  the  stove  understood ;  quickly  she 
lighted  her  candle,  put  it  in  the  lantern  and  preceded 
the  two  men  to  light  their  way.  A  magnificent 
sight  met  their  eyes  on  stepping  out  of  the  house; 


THE  SABBATH.  29 

from  the  lowest  story  of  the  Fencing-School  nj)  to 
the  gable,  light  glistened  from  all  windowt),  and  be- 
hind these  windows  sat  hundreds  of  happy  people, 
rejoicing  in  their  God  and  singing  their  songs  of 
praise.  The  Pole  sighed  deeply;  without  uttering  a 
sound  he  walked  beside  his  friendly  host  across  the 
so-called  Jew's  place.  The  crying,  screaming, 
crowding  and  jostling  and  running  to  and  fro  of 
light-tongued  and  perpetually  moving  triflers,  which 
usually  filled  the  place,  had  vanished ;  like  a  fairy 
bride  the  Sabbath  had  suddenly  charmed  away  all 
the  motley  baggage  which  they  had  dragged  about 
with  them  all  the  week  long;  not  a  sound  was  audi- 
ble; only  the  snow  creaked  under  the  tread  of  the 
late  visitors,  who  turned  into  Antonia  street  and 
stopped  before  the  house  of  the  Rabbin.  Old  Cre- 
scentia  rang,  not  from  forwardness  or  politeness,  no, 
she  well  knew  that  Herr  Moses  Daniel  was  forbidden 
by  an  injunction  of  his  religion  from  touching  a  bell- 
cord  on  the  Sabbath. 

The  Sabbath  is  a  day  of  rest  for  the  much  tor- 
mented Rabbi  also,  for  the  law  expressly  commands 
that  on  Friday  evening  one  shall  not  pursue  any  sol- 
itary study,  because  one  might  easily  in  his  zeal  and 
absence  of  mind  commit  the  sin  of  snuffing  the  light. 
The  old  Rabbi,  who  had  just  been  hearing  from  his 
wife  the  secret  affairs  of  the  congregation,  received 
the  two  visitors  cordially,  yet  with  a  certain  proud 
self-consciousness.  Soon  after  the  first  greeting 
there  grew  up  a  dispute,  between  the  two  experts  in 
Scripture,  about  a  passage  of  the  Talmud  referring 


30  POE T  AND  MER  CHANT. 

to  the  morrow's  weekly  section.  Both  were  veiy 
vehement,  and  it  seemed  often  as  if  their  lively  ges- 
tures must  result  in  actual  collision.  Moses  Daniel 
sat  in  a  great  arm-chair  at  some  distance,  following 
with  an  eager  countenance  their  mutual  objections; 
even  though  they  relied  on  arguments  which  passed 
his  knowledge  or  his  power  of  reasoning,  he  well  re- 
membered that  it  was  a  holy  and  meritorious  work 
to  be  present  at  a  learned  conversation,  even  though 
one  did  not  comprehend  it,  if  in  so  doing  one  only 
sanctified  his  will;  but  to  this  was  added  the  fur- 
ther reason,  that  he  was  enjoying  in  silence  the 
thought  of  being  permitted  to  entertain  such  a  par- 
agon of  erudition  at  his  own  table.  At  a  late  hour, 
when  the  lights  in  the  chandelier  had  gone  out  one 
after  another,  they  took  their  leave  in  a  friendly 
manner,  for  the  dispute  had  turned  not  upon  a  dif- 
ference of  principles  and  purposes;  it  was  a  pious 
fencing  exercise;  so  much  the  more  cordially  could 
the  Kabbi  accede  to  the  request  of  the  Pole,  and  al- 
low him  to  deliver  a  pilgrimage  sermon  at  the  morn- 
ing service  the  next  day  in  the  Lissa  Synagogue  (for 
there  were  at  that  time  already  several  in  Breslau), 
On  the  following  morning  there  was  only  one 
voice  among  those  who  left  the  synagogue  respect- 
ing the  distinguished  learning  and  the  brilliant  wit 
of  the  Polish  stranger.  He  had  adorned  his  delivery 
with  all  kinds  of  parables,  such  as  the  mass  of  peo- 
ple can  easily  carry  away  in  their  pockets. — Moses 
Dan:iel  was  not  a  little  proud  of  taking  the  Pole 
home  with  him  (for  before  the  morning  service  no 


THE  SABBA  TIL  31 

food  could  pass  any  one's  lips)  through  the  submis-  - 
sively  greeting  groups.  Hardly  an  hour  after  they 
sat  down  to  dinner,  where,  with  slight  modifications 
the  usages  of  tlie  previous  evening  were  repeated; 
the  distinguishing  feature  of  this  meal  was,  however, 
a  religious  dish  of  a  peculiar  kind;  namely,  a  fat 
pudding,  which,  as  the  Polish  Kabbi  explained,  was 
eaten  in  memory  of  the  heavenly  manna  with  which 
God  had  fed  the  children  of  Israel  in  the  wilderness, 
which  tasted  like  coriander  in  pure  honey,  as  it  is 
written  in  the  Scripture;  and  the  Rabbinical  writings 
ambiguously  add  that  the  heavenly  manna  tasted  to 
each  one  as  the  food  which  he  most  fancied  and 
coveted  in  his  private  imagination.  The  Rabbi 
meanwhile  knew  how  to  touch  up  this  interpretation 
with  such  colors  that  to  the  attentively  listening  boy 
it  easily  grew  into  a  "  table-spread-thyself  !  "  kind  of 
story. 

After  the  dinner,  for  the  better  digestion  of  the 
heavenly  manna,  they  drank  of  the  western  water  oj- 
strife.  The  Pole  drained  at  a  draught  the  cup  of 
schnaps  which  had  been  set  before  him.  Moses 
Daniel  made  a  wry  face  at  that,  but  filled  up  the 
glass  again,  and  thereupon  commanded  his  sons,  who 
had  previously  had  to  receive  the  Pole's  blessing  by 
imposition  of  hands,  to  let  him  "hear"  (^.  e.  exam- 
ine) them.  With  especial  complacency  did  the  father 
listen  to  the  recitation  of  his  son  Ephraim;  and  when 
the  boy  had  gone  out,  he  said  to  the  Pole : 

"  What  in  my  case  was  neglected  through  the  ne- 
cessitous circumstances  of  my  parents,  I  will,  since 


3  2  POE  T  AND  MERC  HA  NT. 

God  has  given  me  the  means,  fulfill  with  my  son 
Ephraim;  my  other  sons  I  need  in  my  business,  but 
Ephraim,  God  willing,  I  will  make  a  Kabbin;  I  can 
Bay,  with  Holy  writ:  Ephraim  is  my  beloved  son 
{Jer.  31,9),  in  him  is  my  soul  bound  up  (  Gen.  44,  30). 
I  will  gladly  close  my  eyes  when  I  have  once  seen 
him  honored  and  exalted  among  the  brethren  of  our 
faith.  See,  here  on  the  first  leaf  of  my  Chumesch 
(Pentateuch)  it  is  recorded,  he  is  now  just  twelve 
years  old,  for  he  was  born  in  the  year  5491  after  the 
creation;  am  I  not  right — it  is  not  yet  too  late  to 
make  a  clever  Rabbi  of  him  ?  "  the  father  concluded, 
relying  on  an  aftirmative  answer.  The  Pole  poured 
himself  out  w^ith  great  eloquence  and  volubility  upon 
the  glowing  expectations  which  the  acute  remarks, 
the  lively  genius  and  the  astounding  knowledge  of 
the  lad  justified. 

"  All  that  he  has,"  said  Moses,  "  he  has  got  from 
his  old  and  recently  deceased  teacher;  the  present 
incumbent  is  too  easy  and  too  conceited.  However 
— I  have  something  to  say  to  you.  This  evening, 
after  Haf  dalah"  [the  ceremonial  separation  of  the  holy 
Sabbath  from  the  profane  week  days]  "  we  will  con- 
clude the  matter." 

Moses  Daniel  knew  not  that  the  Talmudists  ex- 
pressly allowed  the  exception  that  of  all  commercial 
transactions  the  sole  and  only  one  that  might  be  set- 
tled on  the  Sabbath  was  a  contract  with  a  son's 
teacher.  The  Pole,  although  he  perceived  Moses 
Daniel's  drift,  was  nevertheless  shrewd  enough  not 
to  make  him  aware  of  his  ignorance,  but  rather  to 


THE  SABBATH.  33 

await  till  evening  the  overture  of  such  a  welcome 
proposition;  he  therefore  soon  withdrew,  as  he  ob- 
served that  Moses  Daniel  would  fain  enjoy  his  Sab- 
bath siesta.  On  the  steps  he  met  Mendel  Felhihzer, 
who  was  on  his  way  to  see  Moses  Daniel.  Having 
gone  in,  after  a  short  prelude,  Mendel  said,  scratching 
his  left  arm:  "I  get  a  club  foot  by  you.*  I  have 
a  splendid  match  for  your  daughter,  Violet;  the  man 
has  money  and  goods  and  a  house  fitted  up  in  wid- 
ower's style." 

"Too  late,"  replied  Moses;  "ray  daughter  is  be- 
trothed at  Dresden  with  a  grandson  of  the  great 
Kabbi  Moses  Isserlein." 

"  I  am  sorry, — I  would  say,  I  congratulate  you,"  re- 
plied Mendel,  "  but  I  must  still  earn  a  broker's  fee 
with  you;  my  budget  is  not  empty  yet.  Your  oldest 
son,  Cliajem,  is  a  capital  tradesman;  I  could  supply 
him  with  something  quite  select,  a  damsel  witli  five 
thousand  thalers  and  three  hundred  ounces  of  silver 
into  the  bargain,  and  a  dowry  which,  between  broth- 
ers, is  worth  its  thousand  dollars." 

"That's  worth  thinking  of; — where  is  she  from  ?  " 

"  Where  from  ?  she  comes  of  the  first  family,  land 
in,  land  out;  she  is  the  daughter  of  the  late  3Ioses 
Lobell  of  Treves,  an  only  child,  and  all  her  mother 
has  she  gets  after  a  hundred  years,  as  the  saying  is, 
but  it  can't  last  a  hundred  years  longer;  and  figure 
— a  figure,  I  say,  like  a  princess  !  Your  daughter, 
Violet — her  enemies  cannot  dispute  it — is  a  hand- 

*  A  misfortune  which,  according  to  a  Jewish  proverb,  falls  upon  pimpju 

3 


34  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

some  maiden,  but,  don't  take  it  ill  of  me,  before  this 
one  she  dare  not  show  herself.  She  has  an  air  about 
her  as  if  she  had  lived  all  her  life  lon<j:  amons:  none 
but  dukes  and  princes.  She  knows  Latin,  French, 
cooking  and — in  short,  there's  nothing  wanting,  you 
have  it  all  in  a  lump;  and  the  main  thing  is:  five 
thousand  thalers  free  from  taxes  !  And  the  family  !  ! 
All  folks,  every  one  richer  than  the  last,  not  a  poor 
relation  to  the  hundredth  degree." 

Noticeable  were  the  movements  of  Moses  Daniel 
during  this  luxuriant  description;  at  the  mention  of 
every  virtue  in  the  panegyrical  catalogue:  dowry, 
family,  expectations,  he  made,  with  assenting  look 
and  friendly  smile,  a  punch  with  his  finger  in  his  left 
hand;  at  the  portrayal  of  the  person  he  swayed  to  and 
fro  as  if  uncertain;  at  last  a  fini?er  was  a^rain 
clapped  down;  but  at  the  mention  of  mental  accom- 
plishments he  was  raised  above  all  doubts,  these 
were  t.o  him  decidedly  indifferent,  if  not  atsolutely 
evil;  he  talked  with  Mendel  for  some  time,  till  the 
latter  retired,  and  he  could  take  his  noonday  nap. 
It  was  a  refreshing  one,  for  he  saw  in  dream  his  son 
Ephraim,  preaching  as  Rabbi,  at  Chajem\s  marriage 
with  an  Empress  who  was  made  of  pure  gold ;  to  be 
sure  he  was  troubled  about  his  daughter-in-law's 
having  so  many  crosses  hanging  upon  her;  however, 
no  dream  without  its  nonsense — according  to  the 
Talmud,  he  said  to  himself  as  he  awoke,  and  he  was 
gay  and  happy. 

During  the  whole  Sabbath  white  linen  cloths  had 
always  to  be  spread  on  the  table.     The  family  table 


THE  SABBATH.  35 

was  on  the  Sabbath  peculiarly  the  altar  of  the  Jew- 
ish household;  it  must  be  kept  adorned  all  the  time, 
and  a  temple-like  frame  of  mind,  joined  to  a  quiet 
sense  of  satisfaction,  reigned  uninterruptedly  in  the 
house  and  all  its  inmates. 

When  at  length  night  fell,  the  blessing  was  said 
over  wine  and  lights,  the  latter  were  quenched  in 
wine,  which  was  sprinkled  over  the  table,  and  every 
one  smelled  of  dry  myrtles  held  in  readiness  for  this 
very  purpose,  to  remind  themselves  of  the  perfumes 
of  Eden  and  the  lost  felicities  of  Paradise,  of  which 
the  Sabbath  is  both  after-taste  and  foretaste. 

Not  till  now  was  work-day  labor  again  permitted, 
but  a  pious  usage  enjoins,  and  promises  thereby  a 
blessing  on  all  doings,  to  begin  even  at  this  time 
with  a  holy  work. 

Moses  Daniel  had  come  to  an  understanding  with 
the  Pole  that  the  latter  was  now  to  stay  with  him, 
and  beside  good  board,  clothes,  etc.,  might  also  count 
upon  a  moderate  salary  and  munificent  presents. 
For  this  he  was  carefully  to  instruct  the  young  peo- 
ple, particularly  little  Ephraim,  and  for  the  Avelfare 
and  prosperity  of  the  house  himself  to  study  dili- 
gently in  the  sacred  books. 

The  State,  which  concerned  itself  about  the  civil 
interests  of  its  Jewish  members  only  in  those  affairs 
in  which  it  was  important  to  maintain  proper  restric- 
tions, troubled  itself  still  less  about  any  provision 
for  the  instruction  of  the  youth.  So  it  came  about 
that  full  liberty  and  accountability  to  himself  alone 
were  left  to  the  parent.     This  gave  rise  to  a  variety 


36  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

of  strongly  marked  individualities,  which  in  its  de- 
fects manifested  itself  in  the  form  of  a  want  of  dis- 
cipline, but  these  were  far  outweighed  by  the  ad- 
vantages of  originality  and  independence. 

Into  a  conservative  and  orderly  house  the  father 
had  now  introduced  a  tramp  as  teacher,  and  it  soon 
began  to  appear  that  he  would  be  the  instrument  of 
bringing  into  the  house  something  of  the  restlessness 
and  instability  of  a  strange  and  hitherto  unknown 
life. 


^) 


3.— RABBI  CHANANEL. 

FROM  early  morning  Ephraim  sat  with  the  Pole, 
named  Rabbi  Chananel,  who  struck  out  with  his 
pupil  an  unusual  course  of  instruction.  The  common 
course  being  to  study  the  natural  meaning  of  the 
Bible,  together  with  the  odd  additions  of  the  com- 
mentators, or,  beginning  with  the  Talmud,  to  deduce 
its  meaning  from  that,  the  Pole  likewise  pursued  a 
method  for  centuries  unused  in  the  Jewish  schools, 
which  in  our  days  has  been  revived  under  the  name 
of  the  Hamiltonian  system.  He  did  not,  however, 
omit  meanwhile,  according  to  the  prcedent  of  the 
Spanish  and  Italian  Jews,  to  expound  therewith  the 
fundamental  rules  of  grammar.  This  study  was 
with  the  Polish-German  Jews  almost  universally  in 
bad  repute,  for  a  fine  tact  had  often  led  the  guar- 
dians of  orthodoxy  unconsciously  to  hit  the  nail  on 
the  head:  so  soon  as  one  learned  to  dissect  and  put 
together  again  the  words  and  sentences  of  Holy 
Scripture  according  to  the  rules  of  grammar,  grad- 
ually the  heavenly  glory  which  floated  over  all, 
melted  away;    for  after  that  every  word  no  longer 


38  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

contained  in  itself  a  hundredfold  hidden  signifi- 
cance; the  simple  and  natural  sense  with  its  local  and 
temporary  applications  stood  out  in  full  view. 

Rabbi  Chananel  wrote  also  an  elegant  Hebrew;  he 
had,  after  the  manner  of  the  liberals  of  that  day, 
made  divers  poetical  essays  in  that  language  and 
adapted  rhyme  and  rhythm  of  the  classic  forms  to  the 
Oriental  sj)eech;  Ephraim,  too,  soon  succeeded  in 
composing  a  little  Hebrew  poem;  this  artificial 
poetry  could  not,  however,  any  more  than  that  which 
sprang  up  simultaneously  on  Christian-German 
ground,  put  forth  any  fresh  blossoms  from  the 
depths  of  the  soul;  one  only  manufactured  artificial 
flowers  on  which  there  rested  no  enamel  of  emo- 
tional life.  Without  any  genuine  stir  of  soul  or  spirit 
had  these  little  poems  of  Ephraim's  been  written. 
The  w^iole  object  was,  if  one  may  use  the  expres- 
sion, to  weld  together  a  classic  Hebrew.  Moses 
Daniel,  indeed,  understood  nothing  of  all  this,  but 
the  new  grammatical  study,  because  it  was  a  new 
one,  did  not  satisfy  him,  and  in  his  usual  practical 
way,  he  asked  the  Pole,  What  was  the  use  of  all 
that  ? 

Kabbi  Chananel,  who  had  often  availed  himself  of 
his  rich  fund  of  anecdotes  and  parables  in  bringing 
home  to  a  man  bitter  truths  in  the  most  agreeable 
and  impressive  manner,  replied  with  perfect  com- 
posure: 

"There  was  once  a  man  who  had  a  goat  which  he 
would  gladly  fatten,  either  to  sell,  or  to  slaughter 
for  his  own  use.     So  he  goes  to  market  and  for  a  few 


RABBI  GHANA NEL.  39 

pence  buys  a  great  head  of  cabbage,  with  whicli  he 
hastens  to  the  stall  and  cuts  it  up  for  the  goat;  he 
looks  on  with  pleasure  to  see  her  devour  the  rich 
leaves  one  after  another,  and  when  she  swallows,  he 
himself  for  sympathy  seems  to  swallow,  too.  Hardly 
has  she  got  down  the  last  mouthful,  when  he  lays 
hold  of  her  to  see,  by  feeling  of  her  sides,  whether 
she  has  grown  any  fatter." — 

The  Pole  was  silent,  and  left  his  hearer  to  make 
for  himself  the  inference  and  application;  Moses 
Daniel  understood,  and  henceforth  left  the  shrewd 
man  undisturbed  sway. 

Rabbi  Chananel  was  in  fact  a  remarkable  man. 
From  the  time  of  his  residence  in  Berlin  he  had  been 
member  of  a  secret  smoking  club;  this  was  no  off- 
shoot of  that  celebrated  Potsdam  Tobacco-College 
of  Frederick  William  I.,  but  a  fraternity  with  inde- 
pendent principles  and  objects.  Every  Sabbath 
morning  after  divine  service  there  assembled  ten  or 
twelve  pious  men  in  the  most  retired  room  of  a  street 
remote  from  the  synagogue;  the  prayer-books  and 
prayer-mantles  which  they  brought  with  them  were 
laid  aside,  and  each  one  took  a  pipe  in  his  hand  on 
Avhich  were  written  in  Hebrew  the  words :  "  Ye 
shall  light  no  fire  in  all  your  dwellings  on  the  Sab- 
bath day"  [JEx.  35,  3), and  then  each  one  smoked  to 
his  heart's  content.  This  was  done  from  repugnance 
to  the  prohibition.  One  was  obliged  to  have  given 
valid  proofs  of  his  free-thinking  spirit  before  being 
admitted  into  this  club ;  one  must  at  least  have  writ- 
ten some  alphabetical  letters  on  the  Sabbath,  or  have 


40  POE T  AND  MER CHA NT. 

partaken  at  Easter  of  leavened  bread.  Frivolous, 
witty  expositions  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  or  the 
reading  aloud  of  the  writings  of  Voltaire  (if  any  one 
was  present  who  could  read  German  or  translate 
French),  were  parts  of  the  entertainment  at  these 
meetings.  While  the  rest  strove  to  outdo  each  other 
in  the  wordy  war  of  wit,  Rabbi  Chananel  was  almost 
the  only  one  who  could  not  rid  himself  of  a  serious, 
nay,  a  painful  sense  of  the  position.  With  embit- 
tered zeal  he  often  expressed  his  conviction  how  the 
all-narrowing  religious  oversight  changed  men  back 
again  to  school-boys,  who  think  it  a  great  thing  to  be 
able  secretly  to  transgress  restraint  and  discipline. 

It  created,  by  the  quizzical  way  of  putting  it,  a 
diverting,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  an  uncomfort- 
able impression,  when  Rabbi  Chananel  on  a  certain 
occasion  communicated  a  satirical  delineation  con- 
ceived in  the  spirit  of  Voltaire,  in  which,  with  truly 
demoniac  irony,  he  depicted  a  pious  Jew,  who  dies  by 
starvation,  because  it  is  made  logically  conclusive  to 
him  that  he  is  forbidden  by  the  Talmud  to  eat 
bread,  and  all  sorts  of  acute  reasons  were  assigned 
therefor;  potatoes  must  be  put  under  ban  and  ex- 
terminated from  the  earth,  for  the  Bible,  which  knew 
and  determined  everything,  had  never  known  them. 
With  exhaustive  daring  Rabbi  Chananel  sent  his  im- 
agination into  tlie  last  hours  of  a  man  who  pines 
with  hunger  at  the  table  of  life  till  he  himself  be- 
comes food  for  the  worms. 

Rabbi  Chananel  had  exhorted  his  associates  to 
follow  out  his  plan  and  to  introduce  these  modes  of 


RABBI  CIIANANEL.  41 

exposition  in  Rabbinical  language  among  their 
brethren  in  the  faith,  but  Rabbi  Chananel  was  "  un- 
stable and  flighty  "  in  his  plans  and  still  more  so  in 
his  life. 

But  now  he  had  found  once  more  a  place  of  rest, 
and  he  would  not  let  its  opportunities  of  refreshment 
escape  him. 

Even  in  the  house  of  Moses  Daniel  the  Rabbi  in- 
dulged himself,  though  not  without  great  danger, 
in  living  up  to  the  rules  of  his  order.  When  Moses 
Daniel  on  the  Sabbath  noon  lay  down  to  his  siesta, 
the  Pole  under  a  similar  pretext  would  go  to  his 
chamber,  carefully  lock  himself  in,  disrobe  himself, 
and  proceed  to  smoke  his  pipe.  Not  Tuore  anxiously 
beats  the  heart  of  the  lover,  when  in  the  husli  of  the 
sequestered  bower  he  hangs  on  the  lips  of  his  SAveet- 
heart  and  hears  treacherous  steps  approaching,  than 
Rabbi  Chananel  trembled,  if,  during  his  sinful  prac- 
tice he  heard  the  slightest  motion  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  chamber;  not  more  anxiously  or  cau- 
tiously does  the  murderer  annihilate  all  traces  of  his 
deed  around  and  upon  him,  than  the  Pole  drove  the 
infernal  odor  from  his  garments,  and  not  without  a 
motive  did  he  offer  every  one  who  met  him  on  the 
way  to  the  synagogue  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon,  after  Ephraimhad  recited 
in  the  presence  of  his  father  and  teacher  the  weekly 
section  from  the  Bible  together  with  the  conmienta- 
ries,  he  was  sent  out  by  his  father  into  the  street  to 
play. 

"  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  you,"  said  Moses 


45  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

then  with  cloudy  looks  to  Rabbi  Chananel,  "  but, — ■ 
but,  many  a  one  has  been  deceived;  the  firmest  pil- 
lars of  the  synagogue,  the  Polish  Rabbins  themselves, 
have  been  known  to  totter.  The  Liberals — may 
their  name  be  exterminated  from  the  earth — are 
getting  more  and  more  the  upperhand,  and  are  pro- 
moting the  downfall  of  our  religion.  Such  times 
have  never  been  since  the  world  stood;  if  things  go 
on  so,  it  w^ill  come  to  such  a  pass  in  a  hundred  years 
that  a  Jew  will  be  exhibited  in  a  show-box  for  a 
strange  monster." — A  bitter  smile  played  round  the 
lips  of  Moses,  as  he  thus  spake. 

"  If  only  God,  praised  be  his  holy  name,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  shall  first  have  called  me  to  Himself  before 
I  have  lived  to  see  the  falling-away  of  my  children." 

The  Pole  availed  himself  of  a  pause.  "I  see," 
said  he,  "  that  I  have  been  slandered,  and  that  the 
story  of  my  life  has  been  falsely  or  only  half  related 
to  you;  I  will  speak  with  you  openly  and  undis- 
guisedly,  and  you  may  then  decide  whether  you 
have  reason  to  resign  yourself  to  any  such  appre- 
hensions respecting  me."  He  lifted  up  his  eyes, 
which  had  hitherto  been  devoutly  buried  in  the 
Bible  which  lay  before  him,  and  with  a  proud  and 
free  glance,  continued:  "My  father  was  one  of  the 
most  wealthy  and  influential  Jews  in  Warsaw. 
Every  means  was  taken  for  training  me  up  from 
early  youth  to  be  a  learned  Talmudist.  I  was  not 
allowed  to  take  upon  me  the  smallest  part  of  the 
household  or  family  work,  but  only  to  read  alter- 
nately with  the  Rabbins,  and  in  my  chamber  in  the 


RABBI  CIIANANEL.  43 

holy  books.     In  my  fourteenth  year  I  was  married 
for  the  first  time;  my  wife  died  after  a  cliildless  wed- 
lock of  four  years;  I  married  a  second  time  and  had 
the  good  fortune  to  become  the  father  of  two  lovely 
boys.     Not  long  after  the  birth  of  my  Hillel  I  found 
one  day  a  Christian  youth  asleep  on  the  threshold  of 
my  chamber;  when  I  awoke  him,  he  threw  himself 
on  his  face  before  me  and  kissed  my  feet,  as  if  they 
were  those  of  an  angel  or  a  prophet.     It  was  clear 
to  him  now,  he  said  (when  I  had  at  length  brought 
him  to  his  senses),  why  he  had  so  earnestly  besought 
his  uncle  to  let  him  redeem  for  him  his  pledge  to 
my  wife;  but  that  he  still  had  the  money  with  him, 
for  the  sadly  sweet  melody  of  my  recitation  had, 
at  the  very  moment  of  his  entrance  into  the  house, 
seized  upon  him  as  with  a  magic  spell.     This  was  a 
heavenly  influence.     In  his  sleep  he  had  dreamed 
that  he  had  become  a  Jew,  and  had  read  in  the  holy 
books,  and  the  angels  of  heaven  had  come  down  to 
him,  and  had  been  just  on  the  point  of  revealing  to 
him  the  most  secret  mysteries  of  the  universe,  when 
he  was  awakened. — I  will  not  burden  you  with  all 
our  conversations,  pro  and  con ;  it  availed  nothing. 
Chulicki,  that  was  the  name  of  the  young  adherent 
of  the  oppressed  dissenters,  came  henceforth  to  see 
me  daily,  seated  himself  in  the  arm-chair  which  stood 
ready  for  my  father,  shut  his  eyes,  and  then  I  had 
to  read  to  him  a  portion  of  the  Talmud;    he  under- 
stood nothing  of  it,  but  the  wondrous  ring  of  the 
words,  he  said,  touched  him  like  heavenly  music.     If 
from  weariness  or  necessity  I  left  off,  he  would  often 


44  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

start  up  stamping  and  staggering  as  out  of  a  dream. 
Thrice  a  day  at  the  hour  of  prayer  he  went  to  the 
synagogue,  and  seated  himself  as  a  penitent  on  the 
threshold;  his  usual  diet  consisted  of  fruits  and  veg- 
etables, nothing  that  came  from  a  living  creature 
passed  his  lips.  To  me  he  clung  like  my  very 
shadow. 

"  Long  was  I  in  doubt  about  this  incident,  still  I 
stoutly  withstood  the  prayers  of  Chulicki  to  admit 
him  into  our  religion,  or  at  least  to  teach  him  the 
holy  usages  that  he  might  one  day  practice  them; 
he  would  submit  to  all  trials;  but  I  resisted,  although 
I  must  confess  I  had  many  a  secret  feeling  of  joy 
over  his  battlings  against  his  religion.  One  day 
after  his  repeated  passionate  demands,  there  fell,  as 
it  were,  scales  from  my  eyes;  I  had  no  longer  a 
doubt:  The  soul  of  a  truly  pious  Jew  has  for  some 
sin  been  compelled  to  enter  into  this  Christian 
body,  and  now  awaits  through  me  a  release.  I 
talked  the  whole  matter  over  with  our  much  experi- 
enced oldest  Rabbi,  and  he  conjured  me  not  to  delay 
a  moment  to  give  a  soul,  which  had  now  been  nine- 
teen years  in  torment,  and  could  find  no  peace,  save 
by  returning  to  our  holy  religion,  as  soon  as  possible 
its  deliverance.  I  will  make  a  short  story  of  it. 
After  some  months  Chulicki  was,  by  a  senate  of 
Rabbis,  myself  and  the  old  Rabbi  among  them,  at 
night,  after  being  dipped  nine  times  in  fresh  spring- 
water,  admitted  into  our  religion.  But  at  length, 
through  the  negligence  of  Chulicki,  who  delayed  his 
flight,  the  affair  was  discovered;    Chulicki  was  ar- 


RABBI  GHANA NEL.  45 

rested,  I  was  declared  an  outlaw,  and  had  to  forsake 
father  and  mother,  wife  and  child,  to  save  my 
wretched  life.  Happily  I  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
frontier;  meanwhile  my  innocent  father  and  the  old 
Rabbi  were  thrown  into  prison;  an  amount  of  money 
beyond  the  means  of  the  whole  congregation  was 
demanded  for  their  ransom,  but  the  Lord  delivered 
them;  they  soon  died,  and  my  whole  patrimony  Avas 
confiscated.  Of  Chulicki  nothing  more  has  ever 
been  heard;  the  story  went  that  he  had  escaped 
from  prison  and  traveled  to  Jerusalem.  But  the 
hardest  lot  was  mine,  who  stood  out  in  the  world, 
as  one  fallen  from  heaven.  I  had  never  in  my  life 
left  the  Jews'  street;  I  knew  nothing  about  money 
nor  anything  else  that  belongs  to  life;  a  crafty  fel- 
low countryman  who  attached  himself  to  me  robbed 
me  at  the  inn  of  my  kutka,  [spencer]  in  which  were 
sewed  three  hundred  ducats,  together  with  all  I  had 
of  any  money  value.  Half  naked,  tormented  with 
cold  and  hunger,  I  traveled  on.  A  book  might  be 
written  about  it,  so  much  have  I  suffered,  till  at  last  I 
reached  Berlin,  where  Rabbi  Alexander  Sussman 
took  me  into  his  house." 

"  There,  I  was  told,"  said  Moses,  who  had  hitherto 
been  a  silent  and  attentive  listener,  "  that  you  pub- 
licly indulged  in  wanton  expressions  respecting  our 
holy  religion,  and  that  you  only  escaped  the  Cherem 
[excommunication]  by  your  remoteness  from  Berlin." 

The  capacious  brows  of  the  Pole  drew  themselves 
together  like  dark  clouds,  beneath  which  his  eyes 
shot  forth  fiery  glances,  yet  he  soon  collected  himself 
again. 


46  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"  I  certainly,  in  Berlin,  acquired  different  views 
of  our  holy  religion,"  said  he,  with  both  liands 
proudly  stroking  back  his  beard;  "  I  should  certainly 
at  this  time  have  converted  my  young  dissenter  very 
differently,  but  my  principles  are  as  certainly  no  less 
religious  and  grounded  no  less  in  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures. At  a  public  disputation  I  sought  to  expose 
the  ignorance  of  an  itinerant  Rabbin,  which  he  en- 
deavored to  cover  up  under  an  intolerant  zeal;  I 
conquered,  and  now  I  was  a  heretic.  It  is  true,  I 
ought  to  have  gone  to  work  with  less  heat,  but  how 
could  I  dream  that  I  should  incur  the  charge  of  im- 
piety? I  was  a  stranger  and  an  outcast;  was  com- 
pelled to  take  my  pilgrim's  staff,  and  arrived  at  your 
hospitable  home.  My  blood  has  since  grown  cooler, 
I  let  the  mighty  rule;  the  Lord  God,  praised  be  His 
name  !  will  guide  things  according  to  His  good  pleas- 
ure, all  is  in  His  hands.  His  counsels  it  is  not  for 
me  to  forestall.  I  live  in  peace  and  tranquillity,  as 
becomes  a  Jew,  and  teach  nothing  but  the  pure  es- 
sence of  our  holy  religion,  as  you  will  have  abundant 
proofs." 

A  better  physiognomist  than  Moses  Daniel  would 
easily  have  observed  that  these  rapidly  uttered  words 
accompanied  by  a  twitching  of  the  facial  muscles, 
might  well  veil  something  more  than  the  Pole  cared 
distinctly  to  divulge.  But  Moses  begged  of  llabbi 
Chananel,  who  sat  there  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
ground,  a  thousand  pardons. 

"  Do  you  not  think  then,"  he  asked,  "  that  our  re- 
ligion is  threatened  with  imminent  destruction  ?  " 


RABBI  CIIANANEL.  47 

"  I  will  relate  to  you  fi  parable  irorn  tlie  Midrasch," 
replied  the  Pole.  "  Once  on  a  time  they  were  driviuijr 
through  a  forest  several  wagons  full  of  sliaipciKMl 
axe  blades;  when  the  trees  saw  that^  they  all  began 
to  howl  andlament.  Alas  !  all  cried,  alas  !  our  last 
day  is  come,  we  are  all  lost; — only  a  tall  oak  on  the 
top  of  the  mountain,  which  had  seen  its  leaves  fall 
and  sprout  anew  more  than  a  hundred  times,  he  alone 
stood  uj)  calmly  and  thoughtfully  shook  his  head. 
Be  quiet  and  undismayed,  he  cried  with  a  mighty 
voice,  which  subdued  all  to  silence,  not  all  these 
axe  blades  can  harm  you,  unless  you  consent  to  supply 
them  a  liandleP 

The  parabolic  superiority  of  Rabbi  Chananel  again, 
in  this  instance,  made  itself  manifest,  ambiguous  as 
the  meaning  of  the  simile  remained,  whether  by  the 
axes,  Voltairianism,  by  the  oak,  one  or  another  posi- 
tive religion,  were  intended;  Moses  Daniel  fancied  he 
had  hit  upon  the  right  interpretation,  and  assured  the 
Rabbi  renewedly  of  his  entire  confidence.  Rabbi 
Chananel,  however,  made  use  of  this  not  in  the  most 
suitable  manner. 

Ephraim  had  passed  his  fourteenth  year,  and  there 
was  already  some  talk  of  sending  him  to  the  great 
Talmudic  school  at  Prague,  Presburg,  or  Warsaw. 
Rabbi  Chananel  knew  his  pupil  well,  who  had  hardly 
a  will  of  his  own,  was  easily  led,  but  Avithal  of  an 
excitable  disposition,  and  with  something  of  the 
precocity  of  a  spoiled  child  of  fortune.  With  in- 
creasina:  confidingness  he  now  devoted  himself  to  his 
pupil,  at  first  allowing  himself  to  make  some  light 


48  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

jest  before  him  about  minute  ceremonies;  impercep- 
tibly he  slipped  a  small  dose  of  bitter  doubt  into  the 
vessel,  when  he  let  him  drink  of  the  sweet  water  of 
the  pure  heavenly  fountain;  step  by  step  he  paved 
the  way  for  him  to  free-thinking,  and  the  boy,  at 
last,  stood  trembling  before  his  former  holy  things, 
which  he  now  regarded  with  dislike  and  horror;  with 
tears  he  unveiled  his  whole  inner  being  to  his  teacher. 
"  It  is  decided,"  he  cried  exultingly,  while  he  kissed 
him  on  the  forehead,  "  thou  must  not,  canst  not,  be 
a  Rabbi.  See  !  thou  art  my  son,  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased;  to  thee  I  will  make  over  the  possession  of  my 
sorrowful  life,  for  thy  salvation.  It  Avas  in  the  eighth 
year  of  my  life  that  I  went  for  the  first  time  on  the 
Sabbath  into  a  garden,  where  flowers  in  beautifully 
arranged  beds  smiled  upon  me  in  the  full  splendor  of 
their  hues.  I  could  not  comprehend  what  came  over 
my  feelings.  I  could  gladly  have  kissed  all  the  flowers, 
and  yet  I  knew  that  the  Talmud  forbade  touching  a 
flower  on  the  Sabbath,  because  thereby  one  might  be 
tempted  to  commit  the  sin  of  plucking  it;  but  I  could 
not  resist  the  impulse,  and  as  I  was  not  observed  by 
my  father,  I  quickly  broke  off  a  flower  and  hid  it  in 
my  bosom.  My  longing  was  appeased,  but  a  painful 
uneasiness  was  awakened;  I  had  brought  on  myself 
the  heavy  sin  of  Sabbath-breaking.  After  a  sleepless 
night  I  disclosed,  the  next  morning,  my  guilt  to  a 
comrade;  he  in  his  childish  zeal  devised  an  atone- 
ment. The  hand  which  has  done  the  wrong  must 
be  cut  off,  he  said,  in  the  words  of  the  Scripture.  I 
was  determined  to  let  this  expiation  take  effect  in  my 


RABBI  CIIANANEL.  49 

own  case.  My  fellow  pupil  ran  home,  took  the  little 
knife  which  his  father  had  brought  him  as  a  present 
from  the  fair  at  Frankfort;  we  stole  out  to  the  yard. 
I  laid  my  hand  on  the  baluster  of  the  steps, and  with 
the  customary  words  at  the  slaughter  of  an  animal: 
Praised  be  Thou,  O  Lord,  our  God,  who  has  conse- 
crated us  with  Thy  precepts,  and  hast  given  us  the 
command  to  slaughter — he  cut  vigorously  into  my 
wrist;  I  began  to  scream  with  pain;  he  stopped  short; 
the  people  came  running  out.  Dost  thou  see,"  con- 
tinued the  Pole  with  a  bitter  smile,  while  he  pulled 
up  his  sleeve  and  showed  a  scar  across  the  whole 
upper  side  of  the  wrist,  "  dost  thou  see  ?  that  is  the 
monument  of  my  youthful  zeal  for  religion.  I  had 
not  the  courage  to  endure  all;  now  I  am  cowardly 
and  worn  out;  who  knows  what  I  might  have  become 
had  I  been  born  under  other  circumstances;  had  seen  a 
great  career  opening  before  me ;  a  bright  goal  forever 
beckoning  me  onward;  who  knows  where  I  might 
have  stood,  and  where  my  name  might  have  been 
named;  but  all  that  is  gone  by.  I  was  doomed  to 
be  a  Rabbi,  but  thou — thou  shalt  not,  thou  canst  not. 
I  tell  thee,  to  be  a  Rabbi  means  to  keep  the  soul  in  a 
perpetual  cramp;  there  he  sits,  the  holy  man,  and 
before  him  lie  the  folios  with  their  Babylonian  su- 
perstition, and  around  him  from  floor  to  ceiling  but 
black,  smoky  book-cases,  in  which  the  fresh  life  of 
Judaism  lies  dried  up,  like  a  plant  torn  up  by  the 
roots  and  withered.  The  chaffering  wife  or  the  coii- 
gregation  that  adores  him  cocker  tlie  Rabbi  Avith 
meat  and  drink;  spring,  summer,  winter,  war,  and 
4 


50  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

peace,  all  may  pass  by,  lie  knows  nothing  of  them; 
he  sits  in  his  cell,  and  the  congregation  gather  around 
him,  to  pray  with  him;  he  can  never  go  out  of  the 
house  alone,  and  only  when  he  conducts  a  dead  body 
can  he  come  to  the  door.  I  knew  a  Rabbi  who  ate 
nothing  all  his  life  long  but  white  sugar,  and  once, 
when  some  one  asked  him  where  this  sweetness  came 
from,  he  quietly  replied,  'Where,  then,  should  it 
come  from  ?  sugar-loaves  grow  on  trees  just  as  much 
as  onions  do.'  I  knew  another,  who  when  one  came 
running  to  him  and  said,  full  of  terror.  The  Turk 
was  at  the  gate  and  was  trying  to  get  in,  replied 
calmly,  'Well,  what  of  that?  Let  the  Turk  live 
here  too.'  Being  told  that  there  were  a  good  many 
of  them,  and  that  they  wanted  to  destroy  the  inhab- 
itants, said  he,  'That  is  easily  helped;  just  shut  the 
great  gate  and  open  the  little  one,  and  let  in  one 
after  another  and  so  slaughter  them  all  in  succession.' 
"  Oh,  that  is  a  life  more  like  death  !  Well  for  those 
who  in  harmonious  content  with  themselves  and  their 
environment  know  not  how  the  world  outside  of 
them  is  daily  renewing  its  youth.  Well  with  them  ! 
they  live  in  peace,  studying  and  j^raying,  till  death 
shuts  their  mouths  and  closes  their  eyes,  and  they 
exchange  their  cell  for  a  narrower  one;  but  evil  to 
them,  who,  like  me,  with  discord  in  their  hearts, 
stirred  by  a  freer  impulse  are  doomed  to  such  life,  to 
such  death.  I  tell  thee,  I  hate  and  despise  all  the 
quiddling  of  such  a  ceremonial  sanctity,  and  yet  I 
must  cherish  and  patronize  it  before  the  world,  be- 
cause through  it  alone  I  can  pay  our  tyrant  the  stom- 


RABBI  CITANANEL.  51 

ach  his  tribute. — But  why  all  this?  Because  I  have 
not  learned  to  earn  my  own  bread,  and  now  stand 
here  with  empty  hands.  In  my  travels  hither  I 
worked  for  two  days  in  a  mine,  but  I  was  more  awk- 
ward and  weaker  than  a  boy  of  six  years.  I  broke 
a  leg,  and  yet  they  thrust  me  out  when  they  discov- 
ered me  to  be  a  Jew.  O  God!  how  gladly  would  I 
labor,  till  the  blood  ran  out  from  under  my  nails;  but 
I  am  condemned  to  live  by  spiritual  deception. — 
True,  it  is  not  absolutely  so,"  he  continued  after  a 
pause,  sophisticating  with  himself.  "  I  have  a  right 
to  do  as  I  do ;  the  people  have,  indeed,  nothing  to  do 
with  my  sentiments,  only  with  my  knowledge  and 
my  outward  deportment;  people  ask  not  me,  but 
the  books  in  me  which  I  have  studied;  I  can,  in  this 
way,  at  least  save  them  time  and  perhaps  do  them 
some  good,  yes,  yes,  indeed!  that  I  can." — He  sank 
into  deep  reflection. 

"  So,  my  dear  son,"  he  continued,  as  if  waking  up, 
"  courage !  there  is  still  helj)  for  thee.  O  God !  if  at 
thy  age  any  one  had  spoken  to  me  so!  but  if  only 
thou  art  saved,  then  I  die  happy;  my  life  has  not 
been  in  vain,  for  I  have  delivered  a  young  and  fresh 
soul  out  of  the  bonds  of  spiritual  distraction.  Learn 
a  trade,  let  no  one  dissuade  thee  from  it,  and  if  thou 
feePst  a  yearning  and  a  calling  that  way,  seek  light 
and  truth  with  the  wise  men  of  former  times;  then 
shalt  thou  live  happily  and  shalt  not  need  to  die  first 
in  order  to  be  blest.  But  give  me  thy  hand,  that 
thou  wilt  never  betray  me, — never — hearest  thou  ?  " 

Ephraim  grasped,  weeping,  the  hand  of  his  teacher, 


52  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

and  laid  upon  it  his  burning  cheek.  The  Rahbi 
drew  him  close  to  his  heart  and  he  fell  asleep  on  his 
bosom. 

When  a  few  days  after  he  communicated  to  his 
father  the  resolve  which  he  had  formed,  the  latter 
was  profoundly  aifected;  he  saw  the  offering  which 
he  would  have  made  to  God  despised;  but  soon  he 
rose  erect  again  in  his  strong  faith.  "God's  will  be 
done!"  said  he.  "It  is  all  for  the  best;  the  Lord 
must  certainly  have  meant  to  deny  me  this  heavenly 
joy,  because  I  have  often  been  too  lax  in  the  fulfill- 
ment of  his  commands." 

Whether  now  we  assign  hypocrisy  or  pastoral 
policy  as  the  basis  of  liabbi  Chananel's  character, 
certain  it  is  that  ho  wanted  uprightness  and  straight- 
forwardness; the  deep  grubbings  of  doubt  had  un- 
dermined no  less  his  faith  than  his  courage;  without 
faith  and  courage  how  shall  one  become  a  martyr; 
must  he  not  be  a  hyj^ocrite  ? 

For  all  that,  the  burden  of  his  lot  weighed  more 
heavily  on  him  than  that  of  his  error. 

Joy  and  pleasure  reigned  in  the  house  of  Moses 
Daniel,  for  his  eldest  son  Chajem  had,  through  the 
mediation  of  Mendel  Felluhzer,  been  betrothed  to 
Taiibchen  Lobell,  of  Treves,  and  they  were  cele- 
brating the  nuptials.  Notwithstanding  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  Jewish  law,  Taiibchen's  dowry,  as  that  of  a 
fatherless  child,  was  held  as  tithed,  Moses  Daniel 
did  a  work  of  supererogation,  and  according  to  the 
tradition  which  enjoins  to  bestow  the  tenth  part  of 
all  earnings  upon  the  poor,  he  caused  the  correspond- 


RABBI  CHANANEL.  «>a 

ing  sum  to  be  distributed  on  the  marriage  day  in 
front  of  the  synagogue,  and  his  ah-eady  honored 
name  rose  yet  higher  in  the  public  esteem. 

At  the  wedding-feast  Rabbi  Chananel  sat  at  a 
corner  of  the  table  on  the  left  of  the  bride,  on  whose 
right  sat  the  bridegroom.  The  bride  was  richly  and 
rarely  dressed.  An  eastern  turban,  wound  together 
of  a  variegated  cloth,  and  held  together  in  front  by 
a  great  diamond-studded  agraffe,  covered  her  hair, 
and  bordered  the  lovely  forehead,  on  whose  temples 
blue  veins,  that  pulsed  strongly,  shone  through.  A 
white,  finely  embroidered  veil  hung  down  on  both 
sides  of  the  turban  over  the  whole  body.  Under  the 
long  black  lashes  the  fire  of  her  dark  eyes  gleamed 
forth;  the  dark  complexion,  the  somewhat  arched 
nose,  the  round  chin,  all  conspired  to  present  in  her 
person  the  image  of  a  perfect  oriental  beauty.  It 
struck  one  unpleasantly  that  she  was  always  endeav- 
oring to  refresh  her  finely  curved  but  somewhat  pale 
and  dry  lips  by  biting  them  with  her  teeth.  In  her 
mien  and  whole  manner  a  conscious  self-mastery 
made  itself  clearly  conspicuous.  The  pearl  necklace, 
on  which  hung  several  gems  beside,  the  bunchy 
hoop-petticoat  figured  with  large  flowers,  the  white 
Jewish  bride's-girdle,  from  which  hung  many  silver 
coins,  all  that  formed  a  singular  mixture  of  oriental 
and  European-French  toilet. 

The  bride,  who  had  to  go  to  and  fro  from  one 
guest  to  another  and  thank  them  for  the  rich  wed- 
ding presents,  understood  how,  in  walking,  so  to  lay 
her  veil  that  she  seemed  as  in  a  cloud  and  was  sure 
of  admiring  glances. 


54  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Then  when  she  went  back  and  sat  beside  her 
bridegroom,  she  outdid  herself  in  railleries,  and 
with  a  daring  sauciness  managed  often  to  give  him 
graceful  slaps  on  the  mouth. 

In  the  beginning  the  Pole  seemed  to  remark  with 
displeasure  this  want  of  modesty,  but  soon  the 
bride  contrived  to  gain  over  him  too  by  her  rail- 
leries. She  called  him  to  her  assistance,  to  make 
her  bridegroom  transpose  his  insipid  name  of  Kali 
into  lluk^  and  hardly  had  she  mentioned  that  Arouet 
had  been  changed  about  into  Voltaire^  when  the 
Pole  expressed  his  enthusiasm  for  the  French  poet 
and  philosopher.  She  managed  by  nods  of  assent  to 
make  the  singular  Pole  still  more  communicative. 
Her  whole  counter-talk  was  only  like  the  touching 
of  the  flask  standing  before  her,  from  which  the 
Pole  at  this  signal  repeatedly  filled  his  bumper  and 
drank  more  and  more  recklessly. 

All  the  while  the  synagogue-precentor,  sitting  at 
the  table,  sang  in  the  name  of  each  of  the  company, 
each  time  in  a  different  melody,  a  Hebrew  blessing 
upon  the  youthful  pair,  and  each  time  there  rang  at 
the  conclusion  a  Hoch!  and  they  drank  to  each 
other. 

The  Pole  had  afterward  to  pronounce  the  long 
Hebrew  grace,  but  hardly  had  he  ended  it  when  he 
again  sallied  forth  against  the  young  bride  in  the 
Voltairian  play  of  wit.  At  that  moment  he  felt 
some  one  touch  him  behind ;  he  turned  round  startled; 
little  Ephraim  stood  behind  him. 

"  Some  one  is  waiting  for  you  below,  Rabbi,"  he 


RABBI  GHANA NEL.  65 

paid,  "you  must  come  down  immediately."  The 
Pole  -went  down  ;  before  the  house  stood  a  Polish 
car  with  the  so-called  hlahe^  spread  over  it,  to  which 
was  harnessed  a  little  horse.  A  plump  little  lady, 
with  the  whip  in  her  hand,  sprang  down  with  one 
leap  from  the  chariot  and  reached  the  Pole  her  left 
hand,  holding  the  whip  in  her  right. 

"  Schalom  alechem!  "  (peace  be  with  you !)  "  Rabbi 
Chananel,"  she  cried,  "  dost  thou  not  remember  thy 
wife?  Dost  thou  see,  I  have  traveled  hither  alone; 
to-morrow  we  go  back  together.  The  king  has  par- 
doned thy  old  offense;  thou  art  called  as  Rabbin  by 
the  congregation  at  Schluzke." 

The  Pole  stood  there  pale  as  a  corpse.  Without 
waiting:  for  an  answer  his  wife  unharnessed  her 
horse,  led  him  into  the  stable,  and  then  went  with 
her  husband  to  join  the  marriage- guests. 

The  next  day  Rabbi  Chananel  sat  in  the  little 
chariot  with  his  wife,  without  a  murmur,  without  a 
will  of  his  own.  However  much  pain  and  sorrow 
reigned  in  his  soul,  he  could  not  give  them  utter- 
ance; not  even  at  the  moment  of  bidding  farewell  to 
his  dear  Ephraim.  The  tears  burned  in  his  eyes, 
but  he  could  not  weep. 

*  A  cloth  covering  or  sail.     A  word  derived  from  blcihen;  to  lilow  out 


4.— ALL  FOR  THE  BEST. 

IT  was  the  autumn  of  the  year  1745.  War  had, 
within  a  year,  again  invaded  the  land.  Under  the 
pretext  of  securing  to  Charles  VII.  the  imperial 
throne,  Frederick  II.  contended  for  the  second  time 
with  Maria  Theresa  for  the  possession  of  Silesia;  the 
Protestant  inhabitants  of  that  country  awaited  for 
the  most  part  with  glad  expectation,  the  Catholics 
mostly  still  with  anxious  distrust,  an  issue  favorable 
to  Frederick.  And  the  Jews  ?  No  one  thought  of 
them,  and  they  themselves  looked  indifferently  upon 
the  struggle.  Nay,  many  were  glad  of  it,  for  in 
war  possession  changes  and  easily  passes  over  into 
new  hands;  whether  the  garrisons  wore  Austrian 
bear-skin  caps  or  Prussian  tin  helmets,  could  at  most 
exert  an  influence  on  the  market  price  of  peltry  or 
tin  ware.  Even  the  few  enlightened  ones,  and  those 
who  were  striving  for  freedom,  looked  upon  a  change 
of  government  with  that  indifference  with  which  the 
pale  prisoner,  leaning  against  the  bars  of  his  iron 
grating,  stares  out  into  the  street  where,  at  the 
stated  hour,  they  relieve  guard. 


ALL  FOR  THE  BEST.  57 

In  the  house  of  Closes  Daniel,  however,  the  new 
turn  of  affairs  created  great  distress.  Ah-eady,  for 
several  days,  they  had  been  waiting  in  vain  for  the 
arrival  of  Veilchen's  bridegroom  from  Dresden,  and 
this  evening,  it  being  the  holy  Feast  of  Tabernacles, 
they  had  most  confidently  expected  his  arrival. 
Notwithstanding  that  it  was  beginning  to  freeze 
out-of-doors,  Moses  Daniel  had  left  the  comforta- 
ble quarters  of  his  sitting-room,  and  sat,  with  his 
whole  family,  in  a  sort  of  summer-house  of  boards, 
slightly  put  together,  which  stood  out  in  the  yard; 
for  such  is  the  injunction  of  Holy  Writ:  "Seven 
days  shalt  thou  dwell  in  booths."  {Ex.  Ill,  17.) 
The  inner  walls  of  the  hut  were  hung  from  top  to 
bottom  with  white  linen;  the  roof,  made  of  twigs  of 
trees,  was  so  transparent  that  the  stars  in  the  sky 
could  be  seen  glistening  through;  gilded  fruits  and 
variegated  paper-cuttings,  wdiich  were  fastened  by 
threads  to  the  twigs,  hung  down  for  decorations. 
Particularly  conspicuous  among  them  were  two 
onions,  one  of  which  was  stuck  full  of  barley-corns, 
and  the  other  had  a  cock's  feather  in  it.  These 
might  have  been  mystical  signs,  like  the  Pentagram 
made  of  golden-rods  stuck  together,  and  called  the 
shield  of  David,  in  which  hung  the  brazen  lamp 
with  the  seven  lights.  Supper  was  ended;  Chajem 
had  gone  out  with  his  wife,  who  had  made  fun  of 
this  Arcadian  shepherd's  hut.  The  festal  tone  of 
gayety  was  nowhere  discernible.  Moses  Daniel  sat 
in  the  great  arm-chair,  with  the  broad  cheek-pillows; 
drawing  a  deep  breath,  he  sought  to  suppress  his 


58  POET  AND  MERCHANT,  ' 

sighs,  for  between  his  knees  stood  his  little  son 
Ephraim,  and  beside  him  sat  his  fifteen  year  old 
daughter  Violet,  who  had  clasped  his  hand  and 
leaned  her  forehead  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

"  Be  quiet,  child,"  said  Moses.  "  Ephraim,  bring 
the  book  of  the  '  Soul's  joy '  and  read  us  something 
out  of  it." 

Ephraim  did  as  was  commanded  him,  and  read, 
half -singing,  the  translation  of  a  Talmudic  legend: 

There  lived  a  holy  man  of  yore, 

Whose  praise  I  will  endeavor ; 
The  Lord  laid  on  him  plagues  full  sore, 

Yet  murmur  breathed  he  never. 

Stone-blind  he  was — he  had  no  feet — 

Plis  skin  and  flesh  were  wasted — 
And  nothing  he  did  drink  or  eat 

To  him  with  relish  tasted. 

He  said,  ^^  A  IPs  welly  O  Lord,  my  God! 

Thy  work  is  naught  but  kindness ; 
A  blessing  blossoms  from  thy  rod, 

Thou  sav'st  me  from  soul-blindness. 

•*  The  body,  full  of  base  desires, 
Thy  mercy  all  hath  wasted  ; — 
Eyes  that  had  darted  envious  fires — 
Feet  that  to  mischief  hasted — 

"The  maw,  whose  greed  no  bounds  doth  know, 
Which  belly's  slave  man  calls  well !  " 
So  spoke  the  man  each  hour,  and  so 
They  named  him  :  Nahu7n  A  IPs  well. 

Once  over  land  he  had  to  pass, 

To  comfort  a  sick  neighbor; 
He  sat  himself  on  his  she-ass, 

His  crutches  rest  from  labor. 


ALL  FOR  THE  BEST.  59 

He  also  had  with  him  a  cock, 

To  give  him  timely  warning, 
That  he  with  God  in  prayer  might  talk 

At  earliest  gleam  of  morning. 

He  reached  an  inn  at  close  of  day, 

But  shelter  was  denied  him ; 
He  lit  a  torch  and  jogged  away 

Within  a  wood  to  hide  him. 

A  puflf  of  wind  his  torch  out-blew. 

But  this  nowise  dismayed  him. 
Said  Rabbi  Nahum  :   "All's  well— this  too ! '» 

And  on  the  ground  he  laid  him. 

A  Fox  crept  slyly  up  and  stole 
The  cock,  and  quick  retreated ; 
**  All  for  the  best !  "  thus  in  his  soul, 
The  pious  saint  repeated. 

A  Lion  came  with  mighty  roar. 

And  the  she-ass  devoured; 
Spake  holy  Nahum,  as  before, 

"All's  well !  "  and  journeyed  forward. 

At  morn  a  tale  of  woe  he  learned : 

Last  night  armed  men  descending. 
Had  sacked  the  inn,  and  killed  and  burned, 

Like  beasts  their  victims  rending. 

«*Now  see,"  said  Nahum,  "what  good  care 
The  Lord  for  me  hath  taken ; 
All  in  the  dark  to  leave  me  there. 
By  Ass  and  Cock  forsaken. 

**  Wind,  Fox  and  Lion,  each  one  came, 
God's  angel,  to  stand  by  me. 
And  guard  me— blessed  be  His  name  ! — 
That  harm  might  not  come  nigh  me. 


60  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"If  at  the  inn  I'd  lodged  at  night, 

A  corpse  they  would  have  made  me. 
And  in  the  wood  the  torch's  light 
Would  surely  have  betrayed  me. 

"The  cock's  loud  crow,  the  ass's  bray, 
My  death-knell  would  have  sounded ; 
My  God  !   I  own  thy  wondrous  way, 
Thy  wisdom  is  unbounded." 

Take  pious  Nahum,  dear  young  Jew  ! 

And  make  him  thy  example. 
Then  shalt  thou  be  right  blessed,  too, 

And  build  up  Zion's  temple. 

"Dear  children,  let  that  be  a  lesson  for  us,"  said 
Moses,  and  laid  his  hand  ujion  the  head  of  his  daugh- 
ter, 

"  This  is  where  Herr  Moses  Kuh  lives,"  some  one 
was  heard  to  say  outside.  The  house-door  opened; 
a  stranger  stood  amazed  and  as  if  spell-bound  on 
the  threshold.  It  was  a  small,  undersized  person; 
the  Prussian  military  cap  on  his  head  ill-assorted 
with  the  remaining  civil  garb;  a  serene  kindness 
beamed  from  the  features  of  a  face  full  of  youthful 
beauty,  and  particularly  from  the  bright  blue  eye. 
He  looked  bewildered  as  if  into  a  dream-world,  so 
strange  and  romantic  might  this  whole  spectacle  to 
him  well  be. 

"What  is  your  wish?  Walk  in,"  said  Moses, 
rising.  The  stranger  entered  with  hesitation.  At 
the  same  time  a  dealer  in  old  books  and  broker, 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Wag,  Ileymann  Lisse,  who 
had  pointed  out  to  the  stranger  the  house  of  Moses 
Daniel,  entered  the  door. 


ALL  FOR   THE  BEST.  61 

"This  strange  gentleman  here,"  said  he,  "brings 
news  from  Dresden  from  the  bridegroom." 

"A  letter?"  asked  Moses  Daniel  and  his  daugh- 
ter, simultaneously. 

"An  absurd  question,"  answered  Heymann;  "my 
father  has  been  dead  these  ten  years,  and  I  have 
never  yet  got  a  letter  from  him.  The  bridegroom 
has  only  been  dead  a  couple  of  days,  and  you  want 
to  have  a  letter  from  him  already." 

A  conflict  of  emotions  darted  through  the  hearts 
of  the  hearers,  and  showed  itself  in  their  counte- 
nances. Laughter  and  tears — one  stood  almost  as 
near  as  the  other,  and  who  could  decide  whether,  at 
such  a  burlesque  dressing-up  of  Job's-messages,  he 
ought  first  to  weep  or  smile  ?  Wit  has  not  only  its 
peculiar  sharpness  as  a  weapon  of  attack,  but  also 
the  power  to  break  or  bend  the  point  of  a  wounding 
truth. — The  stranger,  however,  seemed  to  be  no 
friend  to  this  species  of  weapon,  and  interrupting 
the  painful  stillness,  he  said,  in  a  soft,  almost  tremu- 
lous, tone:  "War  severs  so  many  a  fond  tie  with  its 
unmerciful  sword  !  one  must  needs  accept  all  with 
composure  and  pious  resignation." 

"Alas!  alas!  my  dream!"  cried  Violet,  sobbing. 
Her  eyes  staring  wide-open  looked  widely  into  va- 
cancy. Not  a  tear  fell  from  them.  A  pause  of  dumb 
silence  again  ensued;  only  the  sobbing  of  the  bride 
was  audible.  The  stranger  could  only  express  him- 
self in  general  words. 

"Her  dream  of  love  was  short,"  said  he,  "but— •" 

"  What  didst  thou  dream,  then  ?  "  said  Moses. 


62  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"  On  atonement  day,  exhausted  with  fasting,  I  laid 
myself  down,  to  sleep  away  the  remaining  time,  on 
the  bed.  Then  I  dreamed.  I  found  myself,  hand- 
somely dressed,  with  Daniel,  on  a  great  meadow; 
more  than  a  thousand  fiddles  struck  up;  we  began  to 
dance,  all  alone,  more  and  more  merrily.  Then  sud- 
denly Daniel  let  go  of  me ;  I  stood  as  if  nailed  to  the 
spot,  unable  to  stir  a  limb,  but  he  kept  on  dancing, 
leaped  up  in  the  air,  and  at  last  sailed  away  in  per- 
fect freedom,  over  the  ground,  till  at  last  I  saw  him 
disappear  behind  a  tree  on  a  high  mountain.  I  would 
fain  have  screamed,  but  could  not;  then,  full  of 
anguish,  I  awoke.  It  was  night  ;  they  went  to  the 
table.  Now  this  is  the  reason  why,  after  a  long  day 
of  fasting,  I  have  been  able  to  take  nothing  but  a 
cup  of  coffee." 

"  Sit  down  and  tell  me  the  particulars,"  said  Moses 
to  the  stranger ;  "  when  and  how  did  Daniel  die  ?  " 

"It  was  four  days  ago,  the  afternoon  of  the  6th 
instant,  that  his  young  life  was  snatched  from  him." 

"O  wonderful  coincidence!  that  was  precisely  the 
hour  of  thy  dream,  my  child,"  cried  Moses.  "  But 
say,  who  are  you  and  what  tokens  of  his  death  do 
you  bring  us  ?  " 

"My  fate  has  been  changed  by  his;  here  are  the 
prayer-book,  and  the  golden  chain  intended  for  his 
bride,  which  he  gave  me  and  which  I  promised  him 
1  would  faithfully  deliver." 

"Thanks,  you  are  a  worthy  man;  but  say  on." 

The  young  man  appeared  to  seek  for  a  setting  in 
which  he  could  present  the  terrible  picture;  then  he 
began,  at  first  in  a  low  tone: 


ALL  FOR  TILE  BEST.  G3 

"  I  had  gone  into  the  war  joyfully  as  secretary  of 
staff  to  Prince  Leopold  of  Dessau.  We  were  en- 
camped at  Dieskau,  when,  one  morning,  a  Jew  was 
brought  in,  who  the  day  before  had  been  proAvling 
in  a  suspicious  manner  around  the  outposts,  and  was 
said  to  have  counted  the  cannon  which  had  been 
mounted. 

"  '  You  are  a  spy,  you  damned  soul  of  a  Jew  ! '  the 
Field-marshal  said  to  him,  'just  confess,  you  scape- 
grace !  then  I'll  see  what  shall  be  done  with  you ;  so, 
out  with  it  freely  ! '  The  accused  answered  nothing; 
he  wept  like  a  child,  begged  and  supplicated.  '  You 
infernal  scoundrel  ! '  cried  the  General,  '  you  don't 
confess?  Then  we'll  make  short  work  with  you. 
Give  that  mute  throat  of  his  a  little  snugger  neck- 
tie and  hang  him  up  on  the  first  tree  you  come  to, 
that  he  may  have  a  better  view  for  his  spying  pur- 
poses.' At  this  the  young  man  suddenly  assumed  a 
proud  bearing;  he  raised  himself  from  his  submissive 
attitude,  and  turning  to  me  said:  'Dear  sir,  here  is 
my  pass,  can  I  be  sentenced  to  death  ?'  I  represented 
to  the  General  how  this  young  man  had  done 
nothing  more  than  hundreds  of  curious  persons  had 
done,  and  how  his  pass  precluded  suspicion.  'Is 
that  subordination  ? '  cried  the  General,  turning  upon 
me  sharply.  '  By  all  the  fiends  !  the  young  mili- 
tary fellows  will  come  to  reasoning  by-and-by,  and 
when  the  command  is  given  to  liight-about  face  ! 
they'll  ask,  why  not  Left-about?  That's  making 
brotherhood  with  Jew  and  Turk;  as  soon  as  one 
gives  up  saying:  Ilender  to  Ca3sar  the  things  which 


64  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

are  Caesar's,  one  has  long  since  given  up  the  Render 
to  God  the  things  that  are  God's.'  He  snatched  the 
pass  out  of  my  hands.  'What  witch's  signs  are 
these  ? '  he  asked  the  accused. 

"  '  It  is  my  name.  I  cannot  Avrite  German,  and  so 
wrote  it  in  Hebrew,'  he  answered. 

" '  It  is  all  a  lie  and  a  cheat,'  cried  the  General, 
tearing  the  paper  to  pieces:  'You're  a  spy;  wait  a 
moment — I'll  have  a  private  message  whistled  into 
your  ear  by  a  dozen  gun-barrels!  But  no!  that  is 
lit  only  for  a  soldier;  take  the  halter  from  some  old 
dead  horse  and  hang  him  up,  between  two  dogs,  on 
the  first  tree.' 

"I  conjured  the  General  not  to  condemn  an  inno- 
cent man. 

'"Let  him  be  hanged!  Right-about!  March!' 
— The  superstition  reigns  among  the  soldiers  that 
the  old  Dessauer  is  bullet-j^roof ;  I  have  exi^erienced 
the  truth  of  that  in  another  sense. 

"  I  stood  there  almost  senseless,  as  if  struck  with 
apoplexy,  till  at  last  the  General,  with  bitter  words, 
reproached  me  for  my  intercession.  Without  reply- 
ing, I  hurried  out  and  found  the  hangmen,  who,  lying 
around  a  tree,  mocked  their  victim.  The  young 
man  lay  on  his  knees,  murmuring  a  low  prayer,  at 
every  word  beating  his  breast;  when  he  had  ended, 
I  stepped  up  to  him  and  begged  him  to  impart  to  me 
his  last  commissions.  Amidst  asseverations  of  his 
innocence  and  assurances  of  his  profoundest  grati- 
tude, he  gave  me  those  love-tokens  which  I  have 
handed  to  you;  a  few  minutes  after  he  breathed  hisf 
last." 


ALL  FOR  THE  BEST.  65 

The  stranger,  with  visible  emotion,  had  ended  his 
narrative.  All  had  relapsed  into  silent  meditation, 
when  Violet,  who,  with  sighs,  had,  during  the  recital, 
been  playing  with  the  gold  chain,  broke  the  silence. 

"Dear  father,"  said  she,  "I  suppose  we  are  to 
send  this  chain,  and  this  ring  that  I  have,  back  to 
Dresden  ?  " 

A  cold  shudder  crept  over  the  stranger  when  he 
heard  these  words;  scorn  and  indignation  burned 
upon  his  naturally  mild  and  lovely  face.  He  had 
thought  to  execute  a  chivalrous  service,  such  as  are 
sung  in  the  lays  of  the  minstrels:  to  deliver  the  last 
greeting  and  the  last  token  of  affection  from  the 
dying  bridegroom  to  his  bride;  only  for  the  sake  of 
alleviating  the  terrible  sorrow  of  the  forlorn  one 
had  he  attempted  to  bring  the  old  Dessauer  into 
the  foreground  and  so  give  to  his  narration  a  tragi- 
comic coloring.  But  now  what  did  he  find  ? — A 
bride  who,  at  the  death  of  her  bridegroom,  saw  only 
the  diamond  ring  vanish  from  her  finger,  and  the 
gold  chain  from  her  neck.  Nevertheless  the  indig- 
nation of  the  stranger  was  unjust;  Violet  had  never 
loved  her  betrothed;  she  had  only  seen  him  once  for 
a  few  hours,  at  a  time  when,  by  the  agreement  of 
the  fathers  of  both  parties,  she  had  long  since  been 
made  a  bride;  she  lost  in  him,  therefore,  only  a 
bestower  of  costly  finery;  however  nearly  his  death 
may  have  touched  her,  it  was  after  all  merely 
general  compassion,  which  could  not  reach  the  inner- 
most depth  of  her  soul. 

"  All  for  the  best— it  is  hard,  however,  to  say  *  all 
5 


66  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

for  the  best ' " — began  Moses  Daniel,  passing  liis 
hand  across  his  forehead,  and  then  continned:  "If 
one  could  even  have  dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  and 
the  affair  had  not  passed  so  suddenly;  rny  brother- 
in-law  in  Berlin  is  as  well  acquainted  with  the  old 
Dessauer  as  if  he  had  been  a  child  in  his  own  house; 
I  have  also  myself  once  had  business  with  him;  the 
thing  might  have  been  prevented.  I  see  him  before 
me,  grasping  with  both  hands  the  windmill  wings 
of  his  monstrous  mustaches,  and  thundering  and 
yelling  as  if  he  would  upset  the  world;  but  for  all 
that  he  is  not  so  bad  a  man,  only  somewhat  hasty 
and  headstrong.  But  pray  tell  me,  how  did  you  get 
away  from  him  ?  " 

"  When  I  saw  the  poor  innocent  fellow  foully  mur- 
dered I  rushed  back  to  the  General,  full  of  rage, 
broke  my  sword  and  flung  it  at  his  feet.  The  day 
following  I  got  my  leave,  and,  after  I  had  buried  the 
dead,  I  took  my  departure." 

"  I  should  have  done  the  thing  differently  " — little 
Ephraim  put  in  the  remark  here — "I  should  not 
have  broken  my  sword;  I'd  have  stabbed  the  Gen- 
eral with  it,  and  when  I  am  big  enough  I'll  kill  him." 

"  You  must  not  suppose,"  continued  the  stranger, 
"that  the  General  executed  martial  law  upon  the 
poor  fellow  because  he  was  a  Jew.  Perhaps  one^ 
might  say  that  he  manages  with  his  Christianity  as 
he  does  with  his  smoking.  In  the  famous  Potsdam 
Tobacco-Parliament  of  the  late  king,  he  was  the 
only  one  who  did  not  smoke,  but  he  kept  all  the 
while  a  cold  pipe  in  his  mouth.     There  is  a  singular 


ALL  FOR  THE  BEST.  67 

mixture  of  faith  and  superstition  in  bim.  For  in- 
stance, he  once  prayed  on  the  eve  of  a  battle:  *L)ear 
God,  graciously  assist  me  to-day,  or  if  it  be  not  Thy 
will,  at  least  do  not  help  those  rascals,  the  enemy, 
but  just  stand  off  and  see  how  it  comes  out! ' " 

"  Pardon  me,  dear  sir,"  began  Moses  Daniel,  "  you 
are  at  present  without  employment;  I  know  not 
what  your  circumstances  are;  if  I  can  do  anything  to 
serve  you,  I  will  take  your  honest  face  for  security 
till  you  can  repay  me.  Speak  out  then,  openly  and 
freely." 

"I  shall  be  able  to  make  my  own  headway  well 
enough,  and  thank  you  for  your  confidence,"  replied 
the  stranger,  blushing,  as  he  rose  for  fear  of  being 
intrusive. 

"No  thanks  are  needed  on  your  part.  Another 
might  have  kept  the  chain,  and  nobody  would  have 
been  the  wiser.  Only  stay  a  little  longer,  I  pray 
you.  Tell  me  at  least  your  name ;  perhaps  I  may  one 
day  be  able  to  serve  you." 

"  My  name  is  William  Gleim,"  he  replied,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  to  Moses  Daniel  to  take  leave,  and 
kissing  the  shy  Ephraim  on  the  forehead.  "God 
grant  thee  a  bright  future,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand 
as  in  benediction  on  the  boy's  head;  "mayst  thou 
never  have  to  experience  injustice  and  violence,  and 
if  thou  shouldst,  be  strong  and  noble,  and  then  thou 
art  armed  for  defense  and  offense." 

With  visible  emotion  Gleim  gazed  into  the  dark 
eye  of  tlie  boy,  whose  true-hearted  look  yet  rested 
unsuspectingly  on  the  world  around  him.     He  might 


68  POET  AND  MER CHA NT. 

have  been  constructing  before  hira  with  prophetic 
eye  the  changeful  life  and  trials  of  this  young  soul. 
He  once  more  kissed  Ephraim  and  then  left  the  hut. 

"All  is  for  the  best,"  said  Moses  Daniel,  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  when  the  stranger  had  departed. 
"  Dear  children,  let  us  say.  It  is  all  for  the  best. 
Who  knows,  dear  daughter,  what  a  misfortune  may 
not  have  awaited  thee  if  thou  hadst  wedded  Dan- 
iel Isserlein  ?  All  that  God  sends  is  good.  Let  us 
keep  the  feast  in  peace  and  joy." 

The  celebration  of  a  feast  ordained  by  religion 
has  a  peculiarly  controlling  power.  The  Law  not 
only  enjoins  to  subdue  sorrow,  but  also,  what  is  yet 
far  harder,  to  awaken  gladness;  and  such  a  joy 
awakened  by  piety  becomes  an  inwardly  growing 
one,  just  as  the  dew  and  rain  from  heaven  stream 
through  stem  and  twig  a  quickening  juice  of  life. 

Moses  Daniel  was  able  to  maintain  the  festive 
spirit,  and  on  the  morrow  in  the  synagogue  he 
waved  xx^  and  down,  all  the  more  fervently,  the  south- 
ern palm-branch,  on  whose  lower  end  were  woven 
myrtle  and  willow  twigs,  with  the  paradise-apple  rest- 
ing upon  it,  praying  meanwhile  toward  all  the  four 
quarters  of  the  heavens.  He  himself  seemed  like  a 
broken-off  twig  in  the  hand  of  God,  swaying  and  yet 
steadfast,  turned  up  and  down,  to  and  fro,  in  every 
direction.  And  there,  in  the  booth,  Moses  Daniel 
sat  and  reflected,  not  with  sadness,  but  with  glad 
I'esignation,  that  the  children  of  Israel  dwell  in  tents 
as  exiles  and  fugitives  till  the  Lord  shall  one  day 
grant  them  again  a  settled  abode  in  the  land  of 
Canaan. 


ALL  FOR  THE  BEST.  C9 

To  little  Ephraini  the  four  clays'  half-holiday, 
which  came  in  the  middle  of  the  eight  days'  feast, 
had  been  usually  a  special  joy,  as  one  could  carry 
on  all  the  occupations  of  week-day  life;  and  yet  it 
was  a  festival;  the  youthful  spirit  was  not  restrained 
by  a  thousand  little  prohibitions;  but  this  time  he 
could  not  drive  his  sorrow  for  the  dead  man  out  of 
his  thoughts,  and  he  was  angry  with  every  one  who 
forgot  him. 

There  are  natures  which  are  suddenly  and  vio- 
lently wrenched  by  a  sorrow  out  of  the  self-forget- 
fulness  of  a  life  that  drifts  on  aimlessly,  and  to  which 
all  becomes  thenceforth  a  painful  enigma.  As  if  he 
were  going  through  them  for  the  first  time,  Ephraim 
fulfilled  the  singular  usages  which  the  last  days  of 
the  feast  brought  with  them.  Judaism  has  its  em- 
blematic works,  which  must  be  carried  out  into  the 
most  minute  particulars.  One  must  cut  willow  twigs 
by  the  water-side,  bind  them  in  bunches  and  strip 
off  the  leaves,  praying  meanwhile,  in  the  synagogue. 
They  did  not  wait  till  autumn  plucked  off  the  yel- 
low leaves,  they  tore  them  off  with  violence,  while 
they  were  yet  green.  And  on  New  Year's  Day  they 
had  gone  out  to  the  running  water,  shaken  out  their 
garments,  and  at  the  same  time  said  a  prayer,  that 
God  would  bury  the  sins  which  each  had  commit- 
ted in  the  depths  of  the  flood.  On  the  last  day  of 
the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  called  the  "Joy  of  the 
Law,"  they  danced  round  in  the  synagogue  amidst 
songs  of  gladness,  with  the  parchment  rolls  of  the 
Law  in  their  arms.     In  this  they  often  alternated 


70  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

with  each  other,  and  Ephraim  was  permitted  to  take 
the  roll  of  the  Law,  engrossed  by  his  family,  and  or- 
namented with  golden  crown,  and  golden  shield  and 
hidex,  and  carry  it  three  times  round  the  syna- 
gogue. 

The  load  was  heavy,  but  a  three  times  heavier 
one  lay  on  Ephraim's  heart. 

A  profound  sadness,  a  nervous  anxiety,  coupled 
with  a  silent  grudge  against  the  outward  world, 
planted  itself  in  the  heart  of  the  boy,  now  awak- 
ing into  youth.  At  night  the  spectre  of  his  mur- 
dered brother-in-law  intruded  into  his  dreams,  and  if 
he  went  along  the  street  by  day  he  saw  himself 
derided  by  his  Christian  townsfellows  and  pelted 
with  dung.  He  always  purposed  to  run  through 
the  very  first  one  who  should  touch  him  again ;  nay, 
he  even  carried  a  knife  with  him,  but  he  never  dared 
to  use  it,  but  fled  when  he  saw  ever  so  far  off  a 
Christian  boy  coming  in  his  direction. 

There  are  natures  which,  aroused  to  consciousness 
in  the  full  tide  of  life's  energies,  can  hardly  contain 
all  the  joy  and  jubilation,  all  the  pomp  and  din  and 
splendor  which  the  wide  world  on  all  sides  opens 
before  them.  How  different  is  it  with  a  nature 
which,  awakened  by  a  cry  of  grief,  another's  and  its 
own,  becomes  for  the  first  time  conscious  of  an  in- 
curable imperfection.  It  points  to  a  mournful  trail- 
ing along  through  life  on  crutches,  and  melancholy 
or  frivolous  mockery  of  the  world  forms  the  escort. 

Upon  the  first  bloom  of  Ephraim's  spirit  fell  an 
autumnal  frost.     Young's  Night-Thoughts  came  into 


ALL  FOR   TLLE  BEST.  71 

his  hands.  If,  as  often  happens,  a  fruit-tree  is 
found  in  tlie  midst  of  a  forest,  we  say,  a  bird  must 
have  carried  the  seed  there.  Still  more  strongly 
are  the  products  of  the  spirit  transplanted  this  way 
and  that. 

Often  did  Ephraim  venture  to  ask  of  his  inner 
man  how  he  had  deserved  this  fate,  why  the  world 
should  be  his  enemy;  he  questioned  the  Eternal  Jus- 
tice, a  nameless  agony  came  over  him,  burning  tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks,  he  accused  the  Kabbi  as  his 
seducer,  he  denounced  himself  as  a  God-forsakea 
reprobate — and  then  he  ventured  a  decisive  step. 

One  evening,  it  was  in  December,  he  left  his 
father's  house  under  the  pretext  of  intending  to  go 
to  the  synagogue;  he  looked  back  upon  it  sadly,  but 
soon  gathered  uj?  his  courage,  ran  boldly  through 
the  streets  beyond  the  walls  and  out  before  the  gate, 
for  it  was  there  he  proposed  to  accomplish  the  act. 
He  had  once  happened  to  hear  that  death  by  freez- 
ing was  the  least  painful  method;  in  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  stretched  out  on  the  white  sheet  of  snow, 
he  would  sink  to  sleep,  to  awake  on  the  morning  of 
redemption  free  from  all  the  racking  pains  of  life  and 
thought.  He  had  hurried  across  the  fields  and  laid 
himself  down  in  a  ditch,  and  there  he  lay  with  his 
face  fixed  upon  the  stars,  that  glistened  from  be- 
tween torn  clouds;  already  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
he  caught  a  distant  chime  of  bells,  a  confused  hum 
and  murmur;  all  was  still  and  lifeless  around  him; 
his  whole  past  life,  his  purpose,  the  sorrow  of  his 
father,  all  swept  in  a  wdiirl  through  his  brain;  his 


72  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

forehead  burned  with  a  fever-heat,  he  rolled  over 
in  the  snow,  but  he  could  not  quench  the  fiery  glow 
within  him.  All  rigid  he  raised  himself  up;  his  eyes 
rolled  like  those  of  a  madman;  he  was  on  the  point 
of  jumping  up  and  flying  from  his  evil  demon. 
"  Coward  !  "  he  cried  out  to  himself,  "  thou  hast  not 
the  courage  to  die."  He  tore  the  clothes  from  his 
breast,  threw  himself  down  again  upon  the  ground, 
closed  his  eyes  and  fell  asleep.  He  could  hardly 
have  slept  but  a  few  minutes  when  he  heard  foot- 
steps approaching;  involuntarily  he  raised  himself 
up;  a  little  burly  figure  stood  not  far  from  him;  it 
aimed  a  murderous  weapon  directly  at  him  with  the 
challenge:  "Who's  there?  answer,  or  I  shoot  thee 
dead  ! " 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  shoot  me  !  "  cried  Ephraim, 
with  all  his  might.  The  little  figure  drew  nearer  to 
him  and  emitted  a  peal  of  laughter.  It  was  our  old 
acquaintance,  Heymann  Lisse,  a  little  man  of  a 
rotund  figure,  who  distorted  his  naturally  friendly 
face  into  an  almost  gnomish  expression,  and  con- 
tinued to  hold  his  great  Spanish  cane,  with  its 
broad  shaggy  tassels,  as  if  in  readiness. 

"  Ha  !  is  it  thou  ?  "  cried  Heymann,  raising  the 
half -stiffened  Ephraim.  "I  really  believe  thou 
wouldst  fain  have  gone  rumbling  into  the  next  world 
as  a  dead-head;  or  hast  thou  not  yet  learned  of  thy 
father  to  sort  wool  well  enough,  but  that  thou  must 
take  a  field  of  snow  for  a  wool-magazine  ?  Seest 
thou?  that  is  true  mortling,*  but  one  can't  get  it 
to  the  fair." 

*  Or  inoiiing:  wool  taken  from  a  dead  sheep. 


ALL  FOR  THE  BEST.  73 

After  Ephraim  had  dnink  a  sw^'allow  of  brandy 
out  of  the  little  flask  which  Ileymaiui  oarrlud  Avith 
him,  he  was  able  to  go  forward  again  on  his  way. 
He  now  related  how  an  inexplicable  impulse  had 
driven  him  forth  into  the  open  air;  by  degrees  the 
idea  grcAV  under  his  narration  to  an  incarnate  demon, 
who  threw  him  down  half  suffocated  into  the  snow 
and  lamed  all  his  limbs;  the  incidents  grew  ever 
more  and  more  romantic  and  ghostly;   the   simple 
matter  of  fact  withdrew  more  and  more  into  the 
background. — Ephraim  certainly  manifested  in  this  a 
shaping  and  coloring  fancy,  which  even  verged  upon 
the  poetic,  but  it  was  not  that  childish  sort  of  fiction 
which  reaches  out  into  the  infinite  and  believes  in 
the  shapes  that  rise  up.      The  Talmudic  dialectics 
and  the  modern  liberalism  of  the  Rabbi  had  stripped 
off  from  him  all  the  mysteriously  magical;  his  pres- 
ent narrative  had  grown  out  of  their  combination 
and  had  had  for  its  design  the  palliation  of  his  pur- 
pose.— At  this  moment  when  Ephraim  had  become 
conscious  of  a  deliberate  lie,  an  irreconcilable  breach 
took   place   in   his  soul.      The  curtain    before   hu- 
manity's holy  of  holies  was  at  this  hour  from  top 
to   bottom   rent   bleeding  in   twain.      The   oneness 
and  innocence  of  the  young  soul  was  sacrificed  to 
the   world,   the    bodily   suicide   was   averted,   but 
another  seemed  accomplished. 

He  never  could  struggle  througli  to  that  lowly 
and  pious  state  of  resignation  in  which,  like  his 
father,  always  expecting  the  bitterest  afflictions,  he 
could  still  say,  under  every  blow  of  destiny,  "  It  is 


14  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

all  for  the  best,"  but  his  once  having  dared  to  at- 
temj^t  self-murder  put  into  Ephraim's  hands,  under 
all  wrongs  with  which  his  later  lot  encompassed  him, 
a  two-edged  weapon,  namely — the  thought  of  taking 
vengeance  upon  his  adversaries,  and  then  throwing 
himself  into  the  arms  of  death  as  the  only  deliverer. 
Or  is  there  a  life  which  may  be  called  a  long-con- 
tinued suicide  ?  Is  the  inability  to  achieve  a  unity 
of  life  such  ? 

It  is  impossible  to  fathom  the  hidden  ways  of 
thought  which  may  wind  themselves  together  in  a 
youthful  soul  so  as  to  lead  it  to  the  purpose  of  sui- 
cide. One  thing,  however,  may  be  regarded  as 
settled:  it  is,  for  many,  a  wholesome  thing  to  be 
shut  up  into  a  system  of  life  which  takes  away  the 
power  of  self-determination. 

The  disposition  of  Ephraim's  spirit  to  prey  upon 
itself  gave  way  again  to  the  readiness  to  let  men 
and  circumstances  dispose  of  him,  and  obedience  be- 
came to  him  a  conscious  bliss. 

He  who  had  proposed  to  lly  from  life  itself  must 
now — learn  to  write  German. 

The  exclusion  of  the  Jews  from  the  busy  stir  of 
public  life  had  generated  legitimately  in  them  an 
exclusiveness  which  grew  to  obstinacy  and  received 
from  ecclesiastical  orthodoxy  a  religious  stamp. 
Whoever  sought  to  speak  good  German  was  an 
"  innovator,"  a  reprobate.  The  Jewisli  jargon  was,  so 
to  speak,  the  spiritual  dietetic-law,  according  to  which 
only  one  could  take  or  give  thoughts;  but  an  un- 
conscious stir  of  awaking  mind,  which  fortunately 


I 


ALL  FOR  THE  BEST.  75 

linked  itself  in  \^ath  the  claims  of  business  life,  broke 
through,  here  also,  the  bounds  of  custom.  Moses 
Daniel  could  venture,  though  still  timidly,  yet  with- 
out scruples  of  conscience  and  without  endangering 
his  reputation  with  the  congregation  to  have  his  son 
— regularly  taught  German. 


5.— THE  CALIGRAPHER. 

HERR  PETZHOLD  was  at  sword's  points  with 
everybody,  because  he  took  for  granted  that 
every  one  he  met  valued  Writing  not  as  an  art, 
but  only  as  a  knack;  and  he  had  the  usual  vanity  of 
all  those  who  apply  themselves  to  a  kind  of  activity 
hovering  between  art  and  trade. 

While,  therefore,  he  shaved  off  with  the  back  edge 
of  his  knife  the  curling  flakes  from  the  barrel  of  his 
quill,  he  began  to  say  to  his  new  pupil: 

"What  is  man  without  the  art  of  writing?  A 
featherless*  biped  in  the  nakedest  sense  of  the  word; 
only  through  the  art  of  writing  does  he  become 
feathered,  and  his  proper  manhood  fledged.  The 
entire  intellectual  world  is  drawn  with  hair-lines  and 
heavy  strokes,  and  in  the  letters  of  the  alpliabet  lie 
the  abstract  forms  for  conceiving  the  infinitude  of 
the  mind's  ideas.  The  art  of  writing  stands  higli  up 
among  the  plastic  arts  as  philosophic  painting;  for 
not  only  do  the  forms  of  writing  do  most  to  shape 
the  human  character,  it  is  also  most  clearly  revealed 

*  Feder  (feather)  means  pen  in  German. 


THE  CALIGRAPHER.  W 

by  them;  tlic  written  lines  are  the  facial  lines  or 
lineaments  of  every  human  soul,  and  not  without 
signilicance  are  written  signs  called  characters.  I 
will  decipher  you  the  temperament,  disposition,  liis- 
tory  and  circumstances  in  life,  yes,  even  the  bodily 
Hgure  of  a  man,  from  the  lines  of  his  handwriting." 
And  while  with  a  sure  hand  he  cut  the  quill,  and 
gave  it  the  proper  split,  and  shaved  off  the  beard,  he 
continued,  speaking  considerately; 

"  As  touching  the  history  of  the  chirographic  art, 
it  has  been  cherished  with  equal  veneration  by 
Egyptians  and  Jews,  Greeks  and  liomans,  and  in 
hoary  antiquity  the  scribes  stood  side  by  side  with 
prophets  and  kings.  But  the  art  of  writing  cele- 
brated its  most  brilliant  apotheosis  in  the  cloisters  of 
the  Middle  Ages;  in  which  matter  there  are  great 
mysteries  yet  to  be  explored,  for  it  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  family  guild.  Those  saints,  such  as  a  Hierony- 
mus  de  Scala,  who  could  write  the  Lord's  Prayer  in 
Greek  or  Latin  in  the  space  of  half  a  farthing;  or 
that  heroic  conqueror,  Bernhardus  de  Santa  Fide,  who 
founded  the  majestic  realm  of  the  German  Text, 
whose  citizens,  like  the  Roman  senators,  may  be 
likened  to  a  people  of  kings;  or  that  noble  monk 
(whose  name  is  unhappily  forgotten)  who  mortified 
himself  two  months  till  he  could  draw  the  U  in  the 
shape  of  a  dove; — what,  in  comparison  with  them, 
is  a  Cato  or  an  Epaminondas  ?  True,  since  the  in- 
vention of  the  art  of  printing,  the  glory  of  the  art 
of  writing  has  been  somewhat  shorn  of  its  lustre,  but 
its  holy  memory  still  endures.     So  long  as  the  world 


78  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA NT. 

stands,  men  will  say  of  the  word  of  God:  'It  is 
WKiiTEX,' — never:  'It  is  prhdecV  Upon  the  in- 
ventors of  the  chirographic  art,  let  me  to-day  be 
silent.  I  could  not  to-day  for  vexation  draw  an  ob- 
lique hair-line  without  a  tremble,  if  I  brought  up 
vividly  before  me  the  fact  that  the  Chinese  still  con- 
tinue to  be  ignored  as  its  original  authors — here  you 
have  three  well-made  pens." 

So  said  Ilerr  Petzhold,  concluding  his  discourse  as 
he  now  nibbed  the  pens  on  the  thickly  scarred  nail 
of  his  left  hand,  drew  them  through  his  mouth,  and 
then,  according  to  his  custom,  took  with  three  fingers 
a  pinch  of  snuff.  Ephraim  had  been  sitting  before 
him  at  the  table,  uneasy  and  only  half-attentive,  hav- 
ing before  him  a  sheet  of  white  paper.  He  thought 
he  must  now,  as  he  did  with  the  Pole,  at  every  lect- 
ure, as  a  proof  of  attention,  put  in  an  objection. 

"  In  the  Second  Book  of  Moses  it  is  said  of  the  Ten 
Commandments  that  they  were  written  by  the  finger 
of  God,"  said  his  pupil.  Ephraim  had  forgotten 
that  his  teacher  was  deaf,  and  had  therefore  a  double 
love  for  the  written  word.  He  had  now  to  learn  how 
one  must  lay  the  right  arm  on  the  table,  how  one 
must  move  the  wrist  freely,  and  must  let  the  pen 
play  freely  between  the  three  fingers.  The  first 
strokes  would  not  come  quite  right,  and  the  teacher, 
according  to  his  wont,  plucked  him  angrily  by  the 
eyebrows,  and  he  had  to  hear  many  a  scolding  lecture 
upon  his  clumsiness. 

"  You  Jews  are  the  most  incorrigible  fellows  so  far 
as  writing  goes;  that  comes  of  the  good-for-nothing 


THE  CALIGRAPIIER.  "79 

Hebrew  way  of  writing  from  right  to  loft;  you  al- 
ways have  the  world  upside  down.  In  that  way  the 
right  hand  is  forever  writing  to  the  left,  so  that  no 
one  standing  by  may  find  out  anything,  and  all  may 
be  kept  nice  and  snug  among  *our  folks.'  Until 
you  are  forbidden,  on  pain  of  losing  the  right  hand, 
to  write  Hebrew,  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  witli 
you.  And  then  there  is  absolutely  no  accustoming 
you  to  rule  and  order,  since  in  your  gypsy  speech 
the  letters  stand  as  in  a  Jewish  school;  one  stretches 
his  legs  before  him,  another  yawns,  a  third  lies  down 
on  the  other,  and  the  fourth  turns  a  somersault.  In 
the  German  script  the  word  is.  Attention!  there  the 
letters  stand  in  rank  and  file,  not  one  of  them  can 
say  a  word;  like  the  soldiers  at  Potsdam  on  drill- 
parade." 

By  degrees,  however,  Ephraim  succeeded  in  win- 
ning his  teacher's  approval.  One  day  he  brought 
him  an  English  copy — he  stared  at  it  for  some  sec- 
onds. 

"Who  did  that?"  asked  the  teacher,  sharply. 

"Pardon  me.  I — I  certainly  cannot  do  any  bet- 
ter." 

The  teacher  turned  aside  and  with  vehement 
gestures,  imitating  the  lines  of  the  writing  in  the  air, 
he  cried:  "Is  it  possible?  Those  boldly  sweeping 
strokes,  that  audacious  boldness  of  concatenation, 
that  rounding  and  fullness,  every  stroke  flowing  from 
the  pen  like  Minerva  from  the  head  of  Jupiter,  like 
Venus  gliding  forth  out  of  the  foam  at  once  and  in 
all  the  fullness  of  immaculate  beauty,  and  above  all, 


80  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

this  Iiciglit  of  Chinese  security  and  repose !  Such 
a  tiling  has  for  me  been  scarcely  possible  in  the 
happiest  hours  of  poetic  inspiration.  One  could 
hardly  dare  attempt  that  even  with  tlie  graver.  Oh 
unhappy  me!  "  he  cried,  letting  the  paper  slip  from 
his  hands  and  seizing  himself  by  his  two  eyebrows, 
"  the  curse  of  the  Atrides  weighs  like  the  Himalaya 
upon  my  soul,  my  own  flesh  and  blood  are  in  rebel- 
lion against  me;  but  she  shall  atone  for  it."  He 
stormed  out  of  the  door,  a  distant  scream  was  heard, 
it  drew  nearer,  the  teacher  returned  jerking  along  a 
sobbing  maiden  of  slender  stature,  who  was  hiding 
her  face  and  drying  her  eyes  with  her  apron. 

"  Sit  down  here,  Rosa,"  said  the  teacher.  "  Write 
your  A  B  C  f or  her,  Mr.  Kuh.  She  shall  sit  by  at 
every  lesson  and  learn  to  write.  Art  thou  not 
ashamed,  my  own  child  ?  Thou  wilt  be  next  w^eek 
fourteen  years  old,  and  makest  letters  that  crawl 
about  among  one  another  like  a  sw^arm  of  ants! 
See!  the  young  gentleman  has  only  been  learning  to 
write  with  me  for  six  months,  and  this  is  his  writing; 
he  might  place  himself  beside  the  cabinet  secretaries 
of  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa.  Once  more  then  for 
the  A  B  C." 

Ephraim  was  now  promoted  to  be  law-giver,  for 
he  had  to  set  his  newly-gained'  fellow-pupil  a  "  copy," 
as  Herr  Petzhold  called  it.  Often,  during  this  occu- 
pation, w^ould  he  look  up  and  contemplate  liosa,  who, 
with  her  chin  resting  on  her  hand,  looked  defiantly 
on  the  ground,  the  lips  of  her  little  mouth  angrily 
or  pensively  compressed,  her  full  cheeks  kindled  with 


THE   CALIGRAPTTER.  gi 

an  intense  glow,  while  in  her  eye-lashes  a  tear  hnng 
trembling.  Ephraini  felt  the  disagreeableness  of  be- 
ing compelled  to  assist  in  this  way  in  a  severe  admin- 
istration of  discipline.  What  sweet  and  heavenly 
words  of  excuse  and  encouragement  could  he  have 
composed  out  of  these  letters,  which  he  was  now  in- 
differently and  inexpressively  placing  beside  eacli 
other,  and  when  he  had  now  regularly  shaped  his  L, 
he  could  hardly  resist  the  temptation  to  make  the 
word  Love.  lie  raised  his  eyes,  liis  look  met  Rosa's, 
which  rested  upon  him  sadly  and  reprovingly,  lie 
considered  what  he  should  say  to  her;  the  teacher 
certainly  could  not  hear  him;  but  anything  seemed 
to  him  too  poor  and  feeble.  He  kept  on  and  finally 
ended  with  Z.  With  the  words:  "Do  me  the  kind- 
ness to  write,  please,"  he  handed  her  the  paper. 
Rosa  laughed. 

Far  happier  was  he  two  days  after,  for  now  he 
had  to  prepare  a  copy  in  words  for  Rosa.  Ilerr 
Petzhold  handed  him  his  favorite  book  from  which 
to  write  out  something  for  this  purpose;  it  was 
"  The  Sententious  Heroids  of  Mr.  Christian  Hoffmann 
of  Hoffmannswaldau,  with  other  elegant  poems." 
Ephraim  opened  the  book,  and  took  it  as  a  good 
omen  that  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  following  lines, 
which  he  now  wrote  off  in  a  handsome  hand: 

Hard  shell-walls  must  he  unclose 

Who  the  precious  pearl  desires ; 
He  that  seeks  the  glowing  rose, 

Finds  her  girt  with  prickly  briers. 
Without  bees  no  honey  hast  thou  ; 

Would'st  in  Canaan  find  thy  home, 
6 


82  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

First  he  slave  in  Egypt  must  thou, 
And  through  sea  and  desert  roam. 

He  handed  Rosa  tlie  book  and  tlie  writing,  saying 
at  the  same  time  that  he  would  ghidly  have  copied 
the  verse  tliat  followed,  but  dared  not;  she  must 
read  it.     Rosa  obeyed  the  advice,  and  read  shyly : 

Written  in  my  heart  I  cover 

This  true  maxim  well  and  deep : 
Glow  of  fire  and  pangs  of  lover 

Sacred  hands  must  watchful  keep. 

Rosa,  shamefaced  and  silent,  closed  the  book. 

Herr  Petzhold  at  this  moment  left  the  room  for 
several  minutes.  Ephraim  knew  not  how  it  hap- 
pened; he  had  clasped  Rosa,  he  hung  on  her  neck, 
he  clung  to  her  lips;  but  soon  a  black  demon  dis- 
turbed their  childish  bliss;  they  heard  something 
fall  on  the  floor,  the  inkstand  lay  broken,  and  "  the 
many-armed  flood  of  black  fate  coiled  itself  roimd 
their  feet."  Both  were  still  standing  there  bewil- 
dered, and  looking  at  each  other  with  amazement, 
when  the  avenger  appeared. 

"  Who  did  that  ?  "  asked  Herr  Petzhold,  and  im- 
mediately seized  his  daughter  by  her  lovely  eye- 
brows. Weeping  and  trembling,  Ephraim  snatched 
away  the  father's  arm,  and  cried  with  all  his  lungs: 
"For  God's  sake!  she  is  innocent — it  is  I — I — tear 
my  eyes  out !  " 

How  sweet  to  him  was  the  thought  of  being  per- 
mitted to  suffer  for  Rosa.  Raising  his  eyes  to  her, 
he  would  gladly  have  seen  deatli  and  niglit  come 
upon  him,  but  Herr  Petzhold  denied  him  the  pleas- 


•  THE  CALIGRAPHER.  83 

lire  of  martyrdom;  he  Avas  obliged  to  go  home  with- 
out having  endured  any  punishment. 

Rosa  threw,  one  day,  a  little  slip  of  paper  on  his 
w^riting-desk,  on  which  she  liad  written  only  her 
name,  Rosa  Matilda  Marie,  and  that  of  Ephraim 
under  it.  What  more  was  needed  ?  In  those  words 
lay  indeed  the  most  glowing  revelation  of  a  secret 
w^hich  still  labored  shyly  to  veil  itself.  For  hours 
now  did  Ephraim  sit  lonely  in  his  chamber  conjuring 
upon  paper  the  rapture  and  wretchedness  of  his 
agitated  heart.  It  was  not  poems  he  wrote  doAvn,  in 
which  his  love  poured  itself  out;  where  could  he  find 
the  right  words  and  how  could  he  put  them  together  ? 
he  had  only  just  learned  to  shape  handsome  letters. 
So  there  now  he  sat  and  wrote  innumerable  times 
over  the  name  of  his  Rosa;  in  black-letter,  German, 
English  and  Hebrew,  in  all  positions  and  connections. 
How  happy  he  was  !  The  handsomest  letters  of  the 
alphabet  had  united  to  rej^resent  the  most  glorious 
thing  on  earth.  He  made  the  ground-strokes  of 
pierced  work,  and  hi  the  vacant  space  he  wrote  with 
a  raven's  quill  his  ow^n  name;  every  letter,  again, 
formed  a  special  frame  for  a  new  symbol;  now  he 
chased  a  flying  arrow  through  each  letter,  now  he 
nestled  down  contentedly  therein  with  his  full  name; 
his  hand  never  once  trembled,  even  in  the  dangerous 
attempts.  Then  in  a  hundredfold  love-nets  he  im- 
prisoned her  name;  numberless  wreaths  he  wove 
round  it;  this  bold  oval  flourish  wdth  which  he  en- 
closed it  and  w^hich  ended  in  a  loop,  that  fluttered 
far  away,  this  was  the  most  blissful  embrace.    These 


84  POET  AND  MERCHANT,  • 

arrows,  Tvith  vines  twined  around  them,  which  he  ar- 
ranged as  an  impenetrable  Avail  about  lier  name, 
were  they  not  heralds  of  his  exulting  soul  ?  These 
softly  upsoaring,  lightly  and  tremulously  dotted 
twirls,  that  swept  in  spirals  about  her  name,  and  would 
fain  hover  away  beyond  the  narrow  rim  of  the 
paper,  were  they  the  tones  of  the  lark,  on  which  she 
climbs  to  heaven  ? 

Others  might  celebrate  their  beloved  in  well- 
turned  songs  and  sonnets,  in  pictures  crowned  with 
the  glory  of  perfection,  in  battles  fought  for  her 
honor;  Ephraim  could  justly  say  that  never  was  the 
name  of  a  maiden  more  beautifully  delineated  than 
that  of  Rosa. 

To  the  walls  of  his  chamber,  and  to  the  sand  in 
the  garden,  nay,  even  to  the  table,  he  entrusted  the 
sacred  letters.  Since  he  had  begun  to  practice  the 
fine  art  of  caligraphy,  he  had  contracted  the  bad 
habit,  whenever  he  sat  before  a  newly  scoured  table, 
of  scratching  upon  it,  with  his  nails,  the  word  Rosa; 
to  be  sure  he  had  done  this,  as  by  prophetic  inspira- 
tion, long  before  he  knew  and  loved  Rosa  Petzhold; 
but  he  then  immediately  wiped  this  name  out  again, 
for  he  might  otherwise  easily  betray  himself  in  this 
way. 

One  Sabbath  noon  he  stood  thoughtfully  at  the 
window.  Without  knowing  it  he  had  breathed  on 
the  panes  and  written  the  name  Rosa  innumerable 
times  over  and  over.  Just  then  a  hand  grasped  him 
by  the  neck.  "  Impious  boy,  what  art  thou  doing 
there!"  cried  his  enraged  father,  "dost  thou  know 
that  to-day  is  the  Sabbath,  and  one  must  not  write  ?  " 


THE  CALIGRAPJIER.  85 

Ephraim  quickly  rubbed  out  jigfitilt^^th^Ws-  hnnd 
whajt  he  had  written;  he  was  glad  his  fatTiel*  had  not 
noticed  the  precise  word,  and  endeavored  now  to 
prove  to  him,  out  of  the  laws  of  the  Rabbins,  that 
one  might  write  a  writing  which  was  not  permanent, 
even  on  the  Sabbath.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  at 
this  trifling  circumstance  of  Ids  having  called  the 
name  of  Rosa  a  transient  thing,  and  placed  it  in 
connection  with  the  law  of  the  Rabbins,  suddenly 
the  consciousness  of  the  self-contradiction  into  which 
he  had  fallen  awoke  in  his  soul.  One  might  have 
said  of  him  with  Holfmannswaldau:  in  the  rose- 
colored  robe  of  his  life's  happiness,  "snapped  the 
thread  of  times  in  twain."  Ephraim  was  sorely 
troubled,  his  father  no  less  so,  but  for  quite  different 
reasons. 

Hardly  had  Ephraim  himself  learned  to  read  and 
write  German,  when  he  had,  in  turn,  to  teach  it; 
Violet,  his  sister,  begged  him  incessantly  to  give  her 
instruction,  and  nights,  when  all  in  the  house  were 
asleep,  the  seventeen-year-old  damsel  sat  with  her 
brother  and  had  him  teach  her  the  signs  in  which 
the  world's  children  write  down  their  thoughts  and 
experiences;  those  lips,  ripe  for  kissing,  labored  stam- 
meringly  to  spell;  Lessing's  comedy,  "The  Jews," 
which  Ephraim  had  bought,  with  the  consent  of  his 
father,  served  as  A  B  O  book.  With  astonishing 
rapidity  Violet  learned  to  read  and  write  German. 
But  the  farther  she  pressed  on  in  the  coveted 
Eldorado  of  the  new  knowledge,  the  more  unhappy 
she  became;  everything  cramped,  crooked  and  rude 


86  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

that  she  saw  appeared  to  her  Jewish;  everything 
free,  natural,  joyous  and  tender,  that  she  read  ^nd 
imagined  was  to  her  Christian;  she  envied  the  poor- 
est Christian  girl,  and  when  she  imparted  to  Epliraim 
her  sorrow,  the  latter  scolded  at  her,  perhaps  because 
he  himself  was  ailing  with  the  same  malady.  Moses 
Daniel  had  to-day,  on  the  holy  Sabbath,  found  Violet 
weeping  over  a  German  book.  Despite  all  threats 
Violet  asserted  that  she  had  taught  herself  the  use- 
less and  reprobate  stuff.  This  is  why  Moses  Daniel 
was  to-day  sorely  troubled. 

The  whole  subsequent  unhappiness  of  Violet's  life 
finds  its  origin  in  the  innocent  circumstance  that  she 
learned  to  read  and  write  German. 


6._B00K-KEEPING  BY  DOUBLE  ENTRY 
AND  JOSEPH  IN  EGYPT. 

EPIIRAEVI  was  now  a  finished  caligrapher,  and 
passed  in  all  the  congregation  of  Breslau  for  "  a 
good  German,"  a  phrase  in  which  the  German  Jews 
comprehended  the  mastery  of  all  profane  learning. 
Ephraim's  entrance  upon  counting-house  life  coinci- 
ded with  the  date  of  a  great  revolution  in  commer- 
cial history.  The  Frenchman,  De  la  Porte,  had  been 
the  first  to  base  the  arrangements  of  mercantile  bus- 
iness on  principles,  to  reduce  it  to  a  system,  and  raise 
it  to  a  science.  Herr  Petzhold  was  an  inspired  an- 
nunciator of  the  new  doctrine  of  salvation.  He 
was  also  Ephraim's  master.  Poor  Rosa  was  almost 
entirely  forgotten.  Her  father  had  sent  her  to  an 
old  aunt  who  lived  at  Brieg.  She  had  left  Ephraim 
without  leave-taking,  nay,  without  even  giving  him 
the  slightest  intimation  of  her  departure.  The 
youth,  daily  growing  more  practical,  looked  upon  it 
as  a  fortunate  turn  of  destiny,  thus  to  be  set  free  at 
once  from  all  internal  discord;  he  endeavored  to 
bring  himself  to  the  point  of  regarding  their  whole 


88  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

relation  as  a  piece  of  cliildish  thonglitlessness — the 
first  entry  in  his  Ledger  was  a  Bankrnptcy. 

Many  a  time,  indeed,  there  still  came  over  him  a 
frightfnl  sense  of  his  Deficit;  he  felt  himself  impov- 
erished and  forsaken;  but  in  this  period  of  gi-o\vth 
in  knowledge  and  strength,  at  which  Ephraim  had 
now  arrived,  a  new  book,  a  new  realm  of  knowledge 
lifts  one  suddenly  into  quite  another  atmosphere, 
till  life's  joy  and  sorrow  almost  entirely  disappear. 
The  learned  by  profession  remain  in  some  measure 
forever  at  that  stage  of  scholasticism,  and  because 
their  existence  is  exclusively  learning  and  not  action, 
they  are  in  view  of  life  children,  calm  indifferent- 
ists,  or  what  one  commonly  calls  happy  men. 

Of  foreign  languages  Ephraim  knew  only  the  two 
great  words:  Debit  and  Credit.  Hardly  could  he 
yet,  in  his  mother-tongue,  express  himself  fluently 
on  paper,  when  he  began  already  to  learn  French 
also.  Only  he  who  was  a  fond  in  French  was  ac- 
credited with  the  great  world,  for  from  France  was 
imported  the  fitting  out  of  the  Esprit.  Ephraim 
learned  not  only  the  mercantile  active  and  passive 
(assets  and  debts),  but  the  grammatical  also. 

A  true  learning-fever  took  possession  of  him,  such 
as  is  found  only  with  self-taught  men  who  have  not 
been  methodically  schooled.  In  a  few  years  he 
learned  French,  English  and  Italian;  he  could,  also, 
on  a  pinch,  read  a  Latin  author.  With  the  knowl- 
edge of  languages  and  their  forms,  were  unlocked 
to  him  also,  by  degrees,  the  treasures  of  art  and 
science  which  the  minds  of  past  times  have  brought 


BOOK-KEEPING  BY  DOUBLE  EJSFTR  Y.  89 

to  liglit.  The  heroes  of  aiitiquit^^  lie  first  learned  to 
know,  it  is  true,  under  the  ehissic  powder  of  Louis 
XIV.;  the  free,  natural  life  of  the  Greeks  Avas  com- 
pressed into  little  strait-laced  French  bodies;  the 
naked  beauty  of  form  was  over-spun  with  delicate 
silk,  and  breathed  over  with  lascivious  veils,  as  we 
see  it  most  strikingly  in  the  paintings  of  that  day. 
All  this  troubled  the  youth  very  little.  That  world 
was  so  fresh  and  joyous,  so  full  of  glowing  life;  it 
was  so  remote  from  all  that  surrounded  him,  from 
that  petty  religious  slavery  in  which  life  does  not 
begin  till  after  death ;  it  was  so  exalted  above  all  the 
chase  after  gain,  all  the  weighing  and  counting  and 
calculating,  that  he  looked  upon  his  whole  environ- 
ment with  pain  and  contempt.  He  was  a  stranger 
in  his  own  parental  home. 

Again,  on  a  still  higher  plane,  he  reproached  the 
fate  by  which  he  had  been  born  a  Jew.  The  peo- 
ple outside,  he  deemed,  were  the  heirs  of  that  bril- 
liant life  as  it  stood  delineated  there  in  the  books. 
The  life  of  the  peasant  seemed  to  him  as  yet  that 
peaceful  idyl,  in  which  one  scatters  the  seed  in  the 
furrow,  singing  and  shouting,  and  where  nothing 
but  peace  and  pleasure  dwells  under  the  straw-built 
roof;  in  every  officer,  nay,  in  every  soldier,  he  seemed 
to  see  an  Epaminondas,  a  Cresar.  Such  illusions, 
however,  could  not  last  long,  for  a  walk  through  his 
father's  wool-store  taught  him  how  the  boors,  who 
came  to  sell  their  wool  there,  scattered  to  the  winds 
his  dreamed  ideal  of  simplicity  of  manners;  a  walk 
to  the  counting-room,  where  the  officers  raised  loans 


90  POE T  AND  MER CIIA NT. 

on  their  monthly  wages,  taugWt  him  that  under  the 
wadded  collars  throbbed  no  Caesars'  hearts. 

"Ideals  and  reality  must  be  kept  distinct;  once  in 
distant  days  things  were  otherwise,  and  at  some  dis- 
tant day  they  may  be  so  again,"  thought  Ephraim, 
and  this  saddest  of  all  half-true  experiences  gave 
him  confidence  and  peace.  When  he  had  been  all 
day  long  entering  in  his  day-book  or  ledger,  as  his- 
torian and  prosaist,  the  current  incidents  of  the  day, 
had  received  and  answered  business  letters  of  every 
kind,  then  in  the  evening  he  would  receive,  postage- 
free,  in  his  still  chamber,  the  poetic  epistles  of  remote 
and.  yet  related  spirits;  he  accepted,  prima  vista,  the 
intellectual  exchanges  which  the  classics  of  antiquity 
or  the  modern  author  drew  upon  him;  then  he  bade 
adieu  to  double  and  single  book-keeping,  and  applied 
the  treasures  of  others  at  high  rates  of  interest  in 
carrying  on  his  mental  operations. 

Thus  he  lived  a  happy  life,  for  it  was  the  time 
when  one's  leisure  hours  play  with  redoubled  colors. 

It  is  worth  remarking  that  Ephraim,  with  peculiar 
predilection,  transported  himself  into  the  life  of 
idyllic  poetry;  for  the  very  reason  that  in  the  purely 
ideal  character  which  his  imagination  lent  it,  it  lay 
so  far  from  his  whole  outward  life,  did  he  love  all 
the  more  to  enjoy  in  it  an  undisturbed  refreshment. 
Those  nations  whose  knowledge  of  divine  things  has 
been  handed  down  in  books,  are  removed  from  the 
free  life  of  nature.  The  Jews  in  particular,  whose 
life  in  the  west  resembled  a  vegetation  creeping  out 
from  among  ruins,  knew  absolutely  nothing  of  that 


BOOK-KEEPING  B  V  DOUBLE  ENTR  Y.  9 \ 

joyous  growth  and  bloom,  and  so  a  double  enchant- 
ment irradiated  all  to  Epliruim's  youthful  fancy. 
The  vicissitudes  of  seasons  and  weather,  all  that  in 
the  business  life  and  courtings  of  the  Jews  passed 
almost  unnoticed,  formed  now  often  the  focus  of  his 
existence. 

One  day  he  sat  in  the  wool-store,  on  a  great  bale, 
with  the  invoice-book  in  his  hand,  to  "control"*  ac- 
curately the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  newly  ar- 
rived wool.  It  was  a  tedious  operation,  and  Ephra- 
im's  fancy  soon  set  itself  to  work  replacing  all  this 
array  of  wool  upon  the  backs  of  the  sheep,  and 
making  them  leap  and  dance  gayly  on  the  green 
meadow,  Ephraim  himself  being  the  shepherd  who 
blew  the  Syrinx  and  woke  the  babbling  echo,  while 
the  lovely  Chloe,  who  came  with  winged  step,  was 
Rosa  bringing  him  goat's  milk  and  honey,  and  her 
kisses  were  still  swxeter  than  honey,  and  her  words 
more  refreshing  than  the  milk  of  goats — 

"God-a-mercy!  if  there  isn't  the  young  one  lying 
asleep!  Thou  shouldst  have  been  a  Rabbin,  for  thou 
dost  not  properly  understand  anything  about  busi- 
ness." So  spake  Moses  Daniel,  shaking  his  son,  who 
rubbed  his  eyes  with  staring  astonishment,  and  had 
to  hear  a  mild  castigating  sermon  from  his  father. 

"  When  I  have  turned  for  the  second  time  the  key 
of  my  counting-room  door,  I  am  quite  another  be- 
ing," he  had  only  yesterday  boasted  to  his  sister- 
in-law,  and  explained  to  her  how  he  had  found  a  way 
to  separate  the  higher  and  the  every-day  life,  and 

*  Check  off  and  verify. 


92  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

now,  to-day,  was  this  proud  maxim  of  the  practical 
reason  melted  to  nothing. 

Tiiubchen,  or,  as  she  liked  better  to  be  called,  Theo- 
doliuda,  was  Ephraim's  only  confidential  friend.  He 
fancied  himself  to  stand  with  her  in  a  kind  of  broth- 
erly and  sisterly  relation,  and  to  her  he  unveiled  his 
whole  inner  being.  Ephraim  was  still  at  that  first 
stage  of  the  pleasure  of  communicating  when  we 
fancy  ourselves  understood  and  comprehended  by 
every  one  in  the  very  innermost  core  of  our  being 
and  made  one  with  them,  because  they  listen  to  us 
attentively,  reciprocate  our  confidence,  and  often 
only  give  back  to  us  the  same  thing  that,  a  few  min- 
utes before,  we  had  ourselves  expressed;  the  discov- 
ery, following  sooner  or  later,  that  we  have  been 
looking  upon  the  image  in  the  glass  as  a  real  form, 
is  as  bitter  as  it  is  inevitable.  Ephraim  imparted  to 
his  sister-in-law  all  that  he  read,  felt  or  thought,  in 
its  freshest  impression ;  as  by  this  impression  before 
her  he  first  clearly  recognized  what  had  gone  on  with 
him;  he  fancied  that  through  her  he  had  come  to  the 
understanding  of  himself.  Doubly  painful  was  it, 
therefore,  to  him  when  he  discovered  that  he  was  not 
really  understood  by  her. 

One  day  he  spoke  to  her  in  enthusiastic  terms  of 
the  exalted  beauties  that  revealed  themselves  in  the 
Iphigenie  of  Racine,  and  told  how  the  profound 
tragedy  of  this  subject  had  filled  his  whole  soul. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  beautiful  book;  it  has  given  me  great 
pleasure,  also,"  she  answered,  with  a  gay  smile.  She 
thought  she  liad  made  a  profound  observation,  and 


BOOK-KEEPING  B  Y  DOUBLE  ENTR  V.  93 

one  that  harmonized  perfectly  with  the  views  of  her 
learned  brother-in-law;  but  the  latter  suddenly  re- 
coiled when  he  felt  that  he  had  been  squandering  a 
treasure  of  unrecij^rocatcd  feelings,  that  had  sprung 
up  out  of  his  most  glowing  time  of  youth,  upon  an 
unworthy  object.  His  former  respect  for  her 
changed  almost  into  contempt;  what  he  had  read 
with  anxiously-beating  heart  and  tearful  eyes,  all 
that  agonizing  sorrow  which  lies  in  the  unhappy  en- 
tanglements of  life's  relations,  as  the  poet  nakedly 
and  with  severe  truth  had  represented — all  this  was 
to  her  only  an  amusing  play — a  mere  pastime!  From 
day  to  day  he  grew  colder  towards  her;  but  she, 
without  suspecting  what  repelled  him  from  her,  per- 
secuted the  fair  and  well-formed  youth  with  more 
and  more  ardent  looks  and  sweeter  words. 

Taiibchen,  or,  as  we  too  will  now  call  her,  Theo- 
dolinda,  had  been,  accidentally,  in  her  childhood,  en- 
ticed into  a  sphere  of  knowledge  which  then  lay  out- 
side of  the  Jewish  circle.  Her  predominantly  sen- 
suous nature,  had  permitted  her  to  recognize  only 
the  outward  necessity  of  these  elements  of  culture. 
She  read  the  books  and  spiced  her  conversation  with 
French  phrases,  just  as  she  imitated  Christian  women 
in  her  costume,  and  even  went  beyond  them  in  the 
brilliancy  of  her  colors  and  the  extravagance  of 
make  and  material.  She  had  never  loved,  not  even 
her  husband;  she  had  only  married  him,  and  was  by 
him  submissively  respected.  He  liked  to  hear  people 
say  he  was  not  worthy  of  so  handsome  and  culti- 
vated a  lady.     "  But  she  is  mine  for  all  that,"  his 


94  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

smirking  looks  seemed  to  say,  and  then  he  would 
give  her  tender  cheek  such  a  pinch  that  she  often, 
half  in  earnest,  called  him  a  nasty,  vulgar  man. 
While  every  other  Jewish  house  for  the  most  part 
was  so  far  an  open  one  that  every  one  of  the  congre- 
gation came  and  went  at  pleasure,  and  without  ex- 
cuse, Theodolinda  had  established  the  innovation  of 
having  visitors  announced;  many  were  denied  and 
others  stayed  away  of  themselves. 

Chajem  was  not  a  little  proud  of  this  distinction 
of  his  house,  and  there  was  much  ridicule  of  Theo- 
dolinda in  the  congregation.  The  chief  wag,  Iley- 
mann  Lisse,  said  of  her:  "Her  whole  accomplishment 
consists  in  nothing  more  than  her  wearing  a  brace- 
let as  savages  do  a  nose-ring."  This  remark  quickly 
spread  abroad,  for  it  was  no  less  happy  than  mali- 
cious, and  a  saying  of  the  church  wit  was  indelible. 
Theodolinda  had  also  achieved  through  the  submis- 
siveness  of  her  husband,  deviations  from  Jewish 
usage;  she  went  out  of  the  house  without  an  apron, 
yes,  even  into  the  synagogue,  and  in  the  chambers 
of  her  house  hung  colored  pictures;  an  unusual  inno- 
vation, for  it  is  written:  "Thou  shalt  not  make 
unto  thee  any  graven  image"  (Exodus.)  Old  INIoses 
Daniel  shook  his  head  dubiously  at  these  new  fash- 
ions, but  he  would  not  disturb  the  exceedingly  happy 
marriage  of  his  eldest  son,  and  he  remained  silent. 

In  the  little  chamber,  with  the  colored  engravings, 
Ephraim  communing  sat  and  spoke  of  the  joys  of  his 
Boul;  the  eye  of  his  listener  darted  unsteady  flames; 
Ephraim  enjoyed  these  signs  of  attention.     Theodo- 


BOOK-KEEPING  BY  DOUBLE  ENTR  V.  95 

liiida  allowed  herself  with  her  youngest  brother-in- 
law  all  the  light  familiarities  of  relationship;  she 
scolded  at  his  threadbare  attire,  smoothed  back  the 
locks  from  his  forehead,  she  tied  his  cravat  in  a 
more  graceful  knot,  she  lifted  up  his  chin  and  tauglit 
him  an  erect  posture;  Ephraim  stood  there  with  un- 
moved coldness,  as  if  he  must  let  all  this  be  done 
to  him,  while  Theodolinda  often  fixed  upon  him  her 
glowing  eyes;  often,  as  in  silent  sorroAV,  drooped  her 
lashes  and  bowed  her  head.  This  youth  had  been 
the  first  to  open  her  eyes  to  the  infinite,  glimmering 
realm  of  poetic  fantasy;  through  him  she  might  have 
been  transplanted  into  a  life  borne  onward  by  higher 
washes  and  hopes,  and  once  when,  as  Ephraim  sat 
before  her,  she  had  clasped  his  temples  with  both 
hands,  seemingly  to  put  his  locks  in  order,  she  im- 
printed a  kiss  upon  his  forehead;  the  youth  trembled, 
his  forehead  grew  red,  he  cast  down  his  eyes;  she 
raised  his  head,  when  suddenly  his  eye  caught  siglit 
of  a  picture  which  hung  above  him, — it  had  been  an 
awkward  thing  in  Theodolinda  hanging  it  there — for 
it  was  the  story  of  Joseph  and  Potiphar.  As  wath 
heavenly  power  the  pious  feelings  of  his  childhood 
awoke  within  him;  full  of  shame,  he  covered  his 
eyes,  tore  himself  away  from  Theodolinda  and 
rushed  out  of  the  chamber.  He  fancied  he  heard 
laugliter  as  he  shut  the  door  behind  him. 

Theodolinda  soon  contrived,  however,  to  restore 
the  former  harmlessness  of  her  relations  with  her 
brother-in-law,  and  even  to  strengthen  them.  She 
had  the  wit  to  represent  herself  as  a  misunderstood 


96  POE T  AND  MER  CHANT. 

nature,  and  displayed  all  sorts  of  sentimental  con- 
ceits and  fancies.  Ephraim  felt  a  satisfaction  in  be- 
ing able  to  give  her  a  j^artial  guidance,  and  only 
once  did  he  come  upon  a  reminder  of  the  otlierwise 
forgotten  entanglement,  when  she  called  him  her 
"di'eam-interpreter  Joseph." 


7.— EXODUS  FROM  EGYPT. 

A  YEAR  hence — in  Jerusalem  !  "  Such  was  the 
l\  exclamation  of  Moses  Daniel,  as  he  raised 
himself  up  from  his  oriental  couch,  and  lifted  on 
high  the  full  beaker,  as  if  he  drank  to  the  invisible 
spirit  of  God.  Ephraim  contemplated  in  thought- 
ful silence  the  arabesques  on  his  golden  goblet. 

It  was  the  first  evening  of  the  Passover.  Since 
the  going  down  of  the  sun,  Moses  Daniel  had  sat,  or 
rather  reclined,  singing  and  chatting,  on  the  gold- 
brocade-lined  pillow  of  the  ottoman  that  stood  be- 
hind the  richly  spread  table.  Before  him  lay,  piled 
up  in  white  napkins,  three  cakes  of  that  "  Bread  of 
Poverty"  {Deut.  XVI,  3,)  which  the  children  of  Israel 
had  eaten  at  their  exodus  out  of  their  Egyptian 
house  of  bondage,  as  well  as  a  piece  of  flesh  roasted 
on  the  naked  coals,  in  memory  of  the  Passover  Lamb. 
It  was  a  symbolic  supper;  raw  horseradish  was  eaten, 
in  remembrance  of  the  bitterness  which  the  Children 
of  Israel  had  to  swallow  in  Egypt;  they  feasted  on 
raw  parsley  dipped  in  yellowish  electuary,  in  remem- 
brance of  the  clay  which  the  Children  of  Israel  had 
1 


98  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

in  Egypt  to  stamp.  Next  after  the  many  prescribed 
prayers  and  recitals,  there  was  also  much  conversa- 
tion upon  the  history  of  the  exodus  from  Kgypt, 
and  Moses  Daniel  enjoyed  it  all,  according  to  the 
prescript  of  the  Rabbi,  as  profoundly  as  if  he  himself 
had  come  out  from  Egypt. 

On  Passover-eve  every  Jewish  father  of  a  family 
is  an  oriental  king,  and  so,  too,  was  Moses  Daniel. 
He  rose  not  from  his  divan  to  wash  his  hands  when 
the  viands  were  served  up;  he  had  the  silver  wash- 
basin brought  before  him,  and  hardly  raised  himself 
from  his  proud  seat.      In  order,  however,  not  to  fall 
into  presumptuous  sin,  Moses  Daniel  had,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Chasidim  (Jewish  priests),  put  on  his 
full-flowing  white  death-robe;  such  contrasts  were 
agreeable  to  the  Jewish  sentiment.     Ready  to  fol- 
low the  call  of  the  Messiah,  like  his  forefathers  in 
Egypt,  "  his  loins  girt  about,  sandals  on  his  feet  and 
staff  in  his  hand,"   (E.md.   XII,   11,)   so,   too,  was 
Moses   Daniel   prepared   for   the   breaking-up.      It 
mio'ht  well  have  caused  a  shudder  of  awe  when  one 
saw  his  bony  hand,    with  its  swollen  veins,    reach 
forth  from  the  Talar  to  grasp  the  full  beaker;  but 
such  a  feeling  came  into  the  mind  of  no  one  who  sat 
at  the  table.     Beside  Ephraim,  his  three  brothers  and 
his    sister,  there   sat  also  at  the  table  two  Poles, 
dressed  in  black  silk  kaftans,  with  curling  locks  on 
their  temples,  and    our  already   well-known   friend 
Schnauzerle,  with  his  wife  and  children;  nor  was  the 
maid  of  the  house  absent.     This  last  related  during 
the  meal,  that  so  late  as  since  last  evening  the  son  of 


EXODUS  FROM  EGYPT.  99 

a  rich  Christian  citizen  had  disappeared  utterly;  he 
had  gone  out  of  liis  house  at  night,  after  tlie  gates 
of  tlie  fortifications  had  been  ah*eady  closed,  and  no 
trace  of  him  had  since  been  found. 

"God  be  praised  and  blessed,"  said  Moses  Daniel; 
"  aforetime  such  a  history  would  have  cost  the  goods 
and  blood  of  thousands  of  Jehudim.*  God  be 
praised!  He  has  made  the  yoke  of  exile  much 
lighter  for  us." 

"Yoke  is  yoke  still,"  answered  Ephraim.  "  I  can- 
not say,  thank  God  for  it,  that  on  all  walks  and  ways 
manacles  and  man-traps  are  set  for  us." 

"  If  thou  art  not  still,  thou  may'st  soon  get  a  gag, 
too!  For  what  then  should  we  be  in  exile  and 
hoping  for  the  Messiah,  if  we  were  not  oppressed? 
God  forgive  me,  the  boy  disturbs  even  my  holy  feast- 
days." 

The  entrance  of  the  Christian  shop-boy  interrupted 
the  holy  discoursings  of  Moses  Daniel  and  the  dep- 
recations of  the  Poles. 

"  They  have  just  brought  a  sack  of  wool  and  un- 
loaded it  down  below  in  the  yard,"  explained  the 
boy.  "  The  teamster  said  he  would  settle  with  the 
master  right  after  the  holidays." 

"  I  wish  I  could  stuif  the  sack  of  wool  down  thy 
throat  and  choke  thee,"  cried  Moses  Daniel,  spring- 
ing up  and  clenching  his  fists.  "  Haven't  I  told  thee 
ninety  and  nine  times,  never  to  admit  anything 
Saturdays  or  feast-days  that  had  relation  to  busi- 
ness ?     It  seems  as  if  all  the  infernal  spirits  had  got 

*  The  expression  by  which  the  Jews  designate  themselves. 


100  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  NT. 

into  my  house,  and  would  turn  everything  topsy 
turvy.  Even  Sambatjon  has  rest  on  Saturdays  and 
holidays;  I  have  no  longer  a  holiday  nor  a  Sabbath, 
and  my  children,  especially  my  respected  High  Ger- 
man son" — 

"Dear  father!  but  thou  art  really  too  irritable  to- 
day," said  Violet,  and  sought  to  withdraw  the  wine 
from  her  father,  who  had  now  grown  more  calm. 

"  It  is  true,  I  am  so  out  of  temper  this  evening, 
and  it  ought  not  to  be  so;  it  must  be  the  effect  of 
the  wine,"  said  Moses  Daniel,  quietly  resuming  his 
seat. 

As  the  Law  prescribes,  each  one  at  the  table  had 
already  emptied  three  beakers  of  red  wine.  Only 
from  a  tall  gilded  cup,  which  stood  beside  the  father 
of  the  family,  no  one  had  yet  drunk  a  drop,  and  yet 
every  time  the  other  goblets  were  filled,  some  had 
been  poured  into  this  cup  likewise.  The  legend 
names  this  beaker  that  of  the  Prophet  Elias,  since 
that  personage,  who  must  precede  the  coming  Mes- 
siah, always  joins  invisibly  in  the  celebration  of  the 
Feast  of  Redemption;  hence  in  the  hovel  of  the 
poorest  Jew  on  this  evening  a  goblet  of  wine  stands 
ready  for  the  Prophet. 

After  the  grace  the  beakers  were  again  filled;  all 
rose. 

"A  year  from  this — in  Jerusalem!  "  cried  ]\[oses 
Daniel,  raising  himself  up  from  his  oriental  couch, 
and  lifting  on  high  the  brimming  beaker,  as  if  he 
drank  to  the  invisible  spirit  of  God. 

After  that  exclamation  Moses  Daniel  paused,  and 


EXOD US  FROM  EG  YPT.  101 

listened  with  bntecl  breath,  as  if  to  hear  whether  the 
heavens  would  not  send  down  the  air-shattering 
trumpet-blast  of  the  Redeemer,  who  should  make 
the  earth  quake  with  joy  and  terror,  like  a  bride 
who  hears  the  ringing  and  singing  which  announces 
the  coming  of  the  bridegroom  who  is  to  lead  her  to 
the  altar;  he  listened  with  hushed  breath,  as  if  he 
expected  to  hear  the  summons  that  should  gather  to- 
gether .  all  Israel  from  all  the  four  quarters  of  the 
world;  all  was  still,  not  a  breath  was  audible;  only 
from  the  fencing-school  over  the  way  came  con- 
fused sounds  of  singing  and  gabbling,  then  a  horn 
sounded — Ephraim  could  not  forbear  a  bitter  smile ; 
it  was  the  night-watchman. 

Moses  Daniel  pressed  his  left  hand  against  his 
eyebrows  and  bowed  his  face  over  the  full  beaker, 
his  image  looked  up  at  him  out  of  it.  It  was  no  dead 
man's  grimace  that  stared  at  him  there,  and  by  this 
unmistakable  sign,  so  the  cabalistic  tradition  teaches, 
he  had  the  assurance  that  he  should  not  die  this  year, 
and  might  still  tarry  into  the  next  year  to  the  com- 
ing of  the  Messiah.  Moses  Daniel  was  just  in  the 
act  of  sitting  down  quietly,  to  drain  in  composure 
the  last  prescribed  goblet,  when  they  heard  the  win- 
dow panes  of  the  fencing-school  rattle,  uproar  and 
alarming  cries  in  the  streets  and  howling  in  the 
houses.  "Down  with  the  Jews!  We'll  give  them 
their  own  blood  to  drink!  Death  to  Moses  Daniel, 
who  has  made  away  with  Fritz  Posch!"  Stones  rat- 
tled against  the  window  shutters  of  the  apartment  in 
which   the   peaceful   family   were  assembled.      All 


102  POET  AiVD  MERCHANT. 

quaked  and  quailed  and  thought  only  of  saving 
tliemselves  from  the  approaching  danger,  when 
Moses  Daniel  raised  his  head,  his  eye  flamed,  his 
lofty  forehead  was  irradiated  as  with  a  flood  of 
light. 

"Peace  ! "  he  said,  and  his  lips  shaped  themselves 
as  if  for  a  serene  smile,  "as  God  will;  if  it  be  His 
will  that  we  should  die,  let  us  die  like  pious  Jews, 
in  God,  with  God;  Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah  !  Hallelu 
El ! "  Like  a  prophet  stood  Moses  Daniel  there  in 
his  white  talar,  his  hands  raised  aloft  to  God,  sing- 
ing the  Psalm.  All  were  seized  with  a  holy  awe  and 
involuntarily  joined  in  the  song;  even  Schnauzerle 
who,  at  the  first  tumult,  had  crept  with  his  silver 
knife  and  fork  under  the  table,  came  forth  again 
softly  and  cut  a  wry  smile  as  he  struck  into  the 
chorus. 

The  house-door  was  burst  open;  a  mass  of  men 
was  heard  thumping  up  the  stairs;  the  room-door 
flew  open;  Moses  Daniel  went  on  uninterruptedly 
singing  the  Psalm,  and,  as  if  spell-bound,  there  stood 
the  rough  intruders.  No  one  dared  to  set  foot  over 
the  threshold.  Only  a  few  moments  were  these  rude 
spirits  awed  by  the  omnipotence  of  the  Holy.  "  I 
believe  the  fellow  has  a  stolen  priest's  robe  on  his 
mangy  Jewisli  hide,"  cried  one  of  those  who  had 
been  crowded  back,  and  pinched  his  front-man's  car 
so  that  he  gave  a  loud  scream.  A  peal  of  laugliter 
broke  forth,  and  all  reverence  for  the  holy  presence 
had  vanished  away. 

"  See,"  said  the  ringleadei',  as  he  pressed  forward 


EXODUS  FROM  EGYPT,  103 

upon  the  singing  group;  "sec,  each  one  has  a  goblet 
in  his  hand;  here  stands  a  big  one  which  is  not  for 
anybody  at  the  table,  for  that  contains  the  blood  of 
martyrdom,  which  they  have  drawn  from  Fritz. 
There,  wash  yourself  with  it,  you  accursed  Judas!" 
He  took  the  great  cup  and  splashed  the  wine  in 
Moses  Daniel's  face,  so  that  he  fell  back  on  the  otto- 
man, his  white  dress  running  all  over,  as  if  with 
blood. 

"Life  for  life! "  cried  Ephraim,  and  seized  the  vil- 
lain by  the  throat;  "follow  me,  my  brothers!  The 
times  are  gone  by  when  we  let  ourselves  be  hewed 
down  without  resistance.  If  we  must  die,  these 
bloodhounds  shall  lead  the  way  ! " 

A  frightful  wrestling  and  fighting,  screaming  and 
wailing  ensued  in  the  room.  Violet  clung  weeping 
to  the  knees  of  her  half -senseless  father. 

"Hold!"  cried  Moses  Daniel,  suddenly  w^aking 
up.  "Hold  there!  Ephraim!  Ephraim!  wilt  thou  be 
the  death  of  us  all  ?  Thy  hand  may  grow  up  out 
of  thy  grave,  the  knife  run  through  thy  heart,  if 
thou  dost  not  abstain  from  the  sin  of  resisting  evil 
with  armed  violence.  Christians,  here  I  am,  bind 
me,  take  me  prisoner,  kill  me;  I  will  not  ask  you 
why  you  do  so!  I  am  a  Jew — only  spare  my  chil- 
dren; they  are  young,  they  would  fain  live  longer." 

Ephraim  heard  his  father  weep;  the  knife  fell 
from  his  hands;  he  wept  too.  They  heard  the  patrol 
down  at  the  door;  the  rioters  took  advantage  of  the 
moment  and  thrust  whatever  of  value  they  could 
lay  hold  of  into  their  pockets.     Violet  was  almost 


104  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

strangled  by  an  impudent  fellow,  wlio  tore  from  her 
throat  the  coral  necklace. 

"  Property  without  an  owner,  it  is  no  harm  for  me 
to  take  either,"  thought  Schnauzerle,  thrusting  into 
his  pocket  a  gilded  cup,  and  the  knife  which  Ephra- 
im  had  let  fall.  "  That  is  a  good  weapon,"  thought 
Schnauzerle,  "  especially  as  it  has  a  silver  handle." 

Again  there  arose  a  confused  uproar,  then  all  was 
suddenly  still  again,  and  the  patrol  came  in. 

Moses  Daniel  was  dragged  rather  than  led  away 
by  the  mob,  till,  in  the  yard  below,  they  halted,  and 
there  the  ringleader  stepped  forth  with  a  knife 
and  cut  open  the  bag  of  wool  that  lay  there.  There 
lay  wrapped  up  in  the  wool  the  dead  body  of  the 
missing  Fritz  Posch,  with  three  deep  dagger  wounds 
in  his  head.  The  severed  arteries  and  gashed 
temples  showed  that  he  had  died  an  agonizing  death. 

"  You  have  drawn  the  blood  of  a  martyr  for  your 
Passover,  you  Judas,"  cried  all,  and  struck  and 
kicked  the  old  man,  who  bore  all  without  answering 
a  word;  still  dressed  in  his  grave-clothes,  he  was 
thrown  into  prison  as  a  murderer. 

Summer  had  come  and  gone;  autumnal  mists  lay 
silently  brooding  over  the  earth;  from  the  prison 
walls  oozed  out  drops  like  tears.  Moses  Daniel  sat 
cowering  in  silence  in  his  dungeon.  He  had  no 
tears  left,  no  thoughts  to  cling  to;  all  swam  round 
within  in  a  confused  and  chaotic  whirl.  Only  at 
times  his  lips  moved  as  for  a  low  prayer;  he  peered 
out  of  his  little  window  only  to  note  the  solstice, 
and  then  utter  the  customary  prayer.     All  the  mis- 


EXOD  US  FROM  EG  YPT.  \  05 

eries  of  a  prison  life  and  a  criminal  trial  had  he  en- 
dured; even  the  horrors  of  the  rack  had  come  near 
him;  true,  Frederick  II.  had,  soon  after  entering  on 
his  administration,  abolished  that  media3val  bar- 
barity, but  it  was  done  in  a  secret  cabinet-order  to 
the  magistrates;  the  people  learned  nothing  of  it;  the 
threat  of  torture  might  still  serve  a  good  purpose 
for  a  scarecrow.  With  Moses  Daniel,  however,  it 
was  in  vain,  since  whatever  pangs  might  await  him, 
not  the  remotest  chance  was  there  of  a  confession. 
He  had  taken  the  Jewish  oath,  bristling  with  awful 
curses,  in  which,  according  to  usage,  he  must  lay 
open  his  breast,  and  stand  barefoot  upon  a  hog-skin, 
but  still  he  could  confess  nothing,  and  so  the  inquisi- 
tion dragged  along. 

Moses  Daniel  had  a  brother  named  Abraham,  a 
man  of  great  cleverness  and  worldly  experience. 
*'  Gold  will  stop  the  mouth  of  ever  so  great  a  split- 
throat,  and  if  one  rings  with  ducats  the  dumb  will 
come  to  confession,"  he  used  to  say,  and  his  rule  of 
life  in  the  present  case  proved  its  wisdom.  He  suc- 
ceeded by  degrees  in  procuring  for  his  brother  all 
possible  comforts,  nay,  he  would  even  have  secured  his 
liberation  if  the  judges  had  not  feared  the  disgrace 
of  palpable  bribery.  Abraham,  therefore,  publicly 
offered  a  great  sum  of  money  to  any  one  who  would 
give  the  least  clew  to  the  murder  of  Fritz  Posch. 

One  evening  an  old  beggar,  enveloped  in  a  torn 
soldier's-mantle,  came  in  to  Abraham  and  demanded 
a  secret  interview.  Abraham  regarded  the  beggar 
with  searching  glances;  on  his  head  he  wore  a  parti- 


106  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

colored  peaked  cap,  which  he  woidd  not  take  off  be- 
cause his  hairless  skull  teas  disfigured  icitlt  scars  y  a 
great  white  beard  covered  ahnost  all  the  lower  part 
of  his  face;  with  all  this  the  fresh  blue  eyes  with 
tlieir  bright  pupils  formed  a  singular  contrast. 
Abraham,  however,  commanded  his  wife  and  his  two 
children  to  go  out.  After  many  promises  and  assur- 
ances, the  beggar  now,  with  wheezing  voice  and  la- 
boring breath,  told  the  following  story:  The  mur- 
derer of  Fritz  Posch  was  the  linen-weaver  Leneke, 
in  the  liear-houses,  who  for  some  time  had  been  en- 
rolled among  the  pious  ones,  the  Quietists  or  "  Quak- 
ers," the  people  who  were  "  at  rest  in  the  land; "  that 
Fritz  had  been  "  honorably  "  the  lover  of  Leneke's 
wife,  but  in  a  fit  of  jealousy  Leneke  had  stabbed 
him  and  smuggled  the  body  into  the  house  of  the 
Jew.  Leneke  had  then  "  honorably  "  availed  himself 
of  the  King's  Dispensation  and  got  a  divorce  from 
his  wife.  Abraham  asked  whether  the  beggar,  as  he 
absolutely  refused  to  give  any  personal  testimony, 
had  not  then  any  sign  or  decisive  mark;  upon  that 
the  beggar  gave  him  a  silver  ring  with  the  words: 
"  After  this  he  certainly  will  not  be  able  to  deny 
it." 

Abraham  stepped  into  the  next  room  and  was 
heard  to  speak  softly.  The  beggar  quickly  rose  and 
hearkened.  Abraham  came  out  with  a  great  bag  of 
money  and  counted  down  several  hundred  dollars  on 
the  table.  The  beggar  stretched  out  an  exceedingly 
small  hand  from  his  cloak  to  scrape  up  the  shining 
coin.    Abraham  walked  up  and  down  the  room  with 


EXOD US  FROM  EGYPT.  i Q 7 

v^isiblo  impatience,  placed  himself  siclewise  at  the 
window  and  looked  toward  the  street,  still  keeping 
an  eye  on  the  beggar;  the  latter  had  put  up  the 
money  and  was  just  on  the  point  of  going  when 
Abraham  sprang  forward,  drew  a  pistol  from  his 
pocket,  and  grasped  the  beggar  by  the  throat.  A 
scream  died  on  the  beggar's  tongue;  trembling  he 
struggled  under  Abraham's  hands.  At  that  moment 
the  door  opened.  "Jesu  Maria!  the  police! "  cried 
the  beggar,  but  with  the  shriek  of  a  female  voice. 
Abraham  tore  off  the  cap  from  the  head  of  the 
masked  figure,  and  fair  blonde  locks  fell  down;  he 
tore  the  mustaches  from  the  lips,  a  fair  female  form 
disclosed  itself.  The  officers  of  justice  recognized 
her  as  Frau  Leneke,  who  since  her  divorce  had  gone 
round  as  a  player  in  the  neighboring  towns.  She 
was  arrested,  as  well  as  her  late  husband,  who  soon 
confessed  his  crime;  he  was  condemned  to  death. 
Frau  Leneke,  after  several  months'  imprisonment, 
was  banished  the  country;  Moses  Daniel  was  set  at 
liberty. 

"  All  for  the  best,"  said  Moses  Daniel,  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  as  he  sat  again,  for  the  first  time,  in  his  arm- 
chair, and  had  his  family  gathered  around  him. 
"  Children,  let  us  too  say.  All  is  for  the  best.  It 
might,  indeed,  have  gone  much  worse  with  us.  The 
Lord  lets  me  expiate  my  sins  here  below  that  I  may 
up  yonder  partake  so  much  the  more  largely  of  tho 
heavenly  felicity.  Thanks  be  to  Ilim,  and  praise, 
that  He  has  restored  me  to  quietness  and  freedom." 

Moses  Daniel  enjoyed  his  freedom — if  one  may 


108  POET  AiVD  MERCHANT. 

apply  that  sacred  name  to  the  defenseless  condition 
of  a  Jew-protege  of  the  police — but  a  short  time.  On 
the  first  Sabbath  he  had  his  sons  lead  him  to  the 
synagogue,  and  there  before  the  assembled  congre- 
gation, he  pronounced  the  blessing  upon  the  Thorali, 
and  all  who  heard  it  wept  for  emotion ;  and  as  he 
himself  sobbed,  there  came  here  and  there  an  answer- 
ing sob  from  the  congregation,  when  Moses  Daniel, 
tliereuj^on,  uttered  the  customary  prayer  of  thanks- 
giving to  God  for  deliverance  from  impending  death. 
But  more  than  all  did  Ephraim  weep ;  he  felt  now,  for 
the  first  time  fully,  what  death  is,  and  he  looked  upon 
his  father  as  one  risen  from  the  dead,  and  kissed  his 
hands  as  he  went  back  to  his  pew. 

Yet  another  incident  a  short  time  after  deeply 
moved  our  Ephraim's  heart.  It  was  the  day  on  which 
master-weaver  Leneke  was  executed.  In  the  house 
of  Moses  Daniel  there  was,  on  that  day,  a  shuddering 
and  a  silent  sorrow;  it  was  as  if  one  heard  the  death- 
sword  whistle,  which  had  been  swung  over  the  head 
of  the  family,  but  which  the  divine  justice  had 
averted,  w^hich,  however,  still  cried  for  a  living  victim. 
It  was  as  if  there  had  been  renewed  in  the  house  the 
wonderful  dispensation  in  Egypt,  when  the  avenging 
angel  passed  over  and  si:>ared  the  dwellings  that  were 
mai-kcd  with  the  sign  of  the  blood  of  the  Passover- 
lamb.  Moses  Daniel  fasted  from  morning  till  even- 
ing, and  murmured  to  himself  unceasingly  the 
prayer  appointed  for  the  Day  of  Atonement. 

No  one  was  permitted  to  leave  the  house,  and 
Ephraim  was  j^rof oundly  affected  by  the  remark  of 


EXOD US  FROM  EG  YPT.  i OO 

the  Christian  serving-raaid,  that  the  head  of  Leneke 
was  tlie  hundredth  head  that  had  been  cut  off  by 
the  sword  of  justice,  and  that  now  the  executioner 
must  give  it  eternal  rest. 

Moses  Daniel  did  not  leave  his  bed  a^ain  for  the 
whole  winter;  Ephraini  had,  at  every  leisure  hour, 
to  read  to  hira  out  of  the  sacred  books,  and  if,  at  any 
time,  the  old  man  fell  asleep  from  weariness,  Ephra- 
im  would  quickly  draw  a  profane  book  out  of  his 
pocket  and  read  on  for  himself;  at  such  moments 
the  love-stories  of  Boccacio  or  Ariosto  would  lie  on 
the  open  pages  of  the  Talmud,  and  the  rattling  in 
the  throat  and  talking  in  sleep  of  the  sick  man  seemed 
often  like  a  demoniac  protest  against  such  compan- 
ionship, till  Ephraim  recoiled  with  a  shudder  and 
closed  the  book;  but  soon  he  opened  it  again,  smiling, 
and  quickly  read  on.  A  consuming  fever  gradually 
wore  away  Moses  Daniel's  life. 

The  first  Passover-evening  had  come  round  again, 
the  table  was  richly  spread,  numerous  lamps  diffused 
a  festal  brightness.  Moses  Daniel  commanded  that 
they  should  put  on  his  grave-clothes  and  carry  him 
to  the  gold-brocade  ottoman;  he  would  sit  once 
more  on  the  throne  as  king  in  his  own  house.  The 
usual  songs  were  sung;  Moses  Daniel  lay  on  his  otto- 
man and  joined  in  with  a  low  murmur:  it  was  to-day 
no  oriental  kingly  pride  that  forbade  his  rising,  he 
had  not  the  strength  for  it;  but  after  the  grace  he 
rallied  all  his  energies,  and,  supported  by  Ephraim  and 
Nathan,  he  succeeded  in  raising  himself.  He  grasped 
the  beaker,  lifted  it  on  high,  as  if  he  drank  to  thc; 


1  lO  POE  T  A ND  MER CHANT. 

spirit  of  the  invisible  God:  "A  year  hence  in  Jeru- 
salem! "  he  cried,  with  a  mighty  voice;  he  rested  his 
brow  on  his  hand  and  looked  into  the  beaker;  the 
beaker  fell  from  his  hands. 

Once  more  was  the  death-robe  reddened  with  wine, 
once  more  he  sank  back  lifeless  on  the  ottoman,  as 
he  had  done  the  year  before  at  the  same  hour.  But 
this  time  he  did  not  wake  again.  After  a  few  hours 
the  mourning  was  now  only  for  the  dead  Moses 
Daniel. 


8.— DIVISION  AND  DISPERSION. 

A  FEW  weeks  after  the  interment  of  Moses  Dan- 
iel the  whole  family  were  sitting  in  the  parental 
house.  The  division  was  over,  the  strangei"s  had  de- 
parted; only  the  four  brothers,  their  sisters  and  Taiib- 
chen-Theodolinda  sat  there;  they  each  had  golden 
goblets,  jewelry  and  the  like  lying  before  them; 
for  Moses  Daniel  had  almost  a  third  of  his  property 
in  jiersonal  goods  and  chattels,  as  he,  sincerely  and 
faithfully  expecting  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  meant 
to  be  always  in  marching  order;  for  which  reason, 
also,  he  had  left  no  will. 

Twilight  threw  its  shadows  into  the  apartment;  a 
soft  spring  breeze  streamed  through  the  open  win- 
dow; all  was  still. 

"  Brothers,"  began  Ephraira,  "  the  division  is  com- 
pleted, but  we  will  not  divide." 

"  That  is  my  mind,  too,  that  we  continue  the  busi- 
ness under  a  common  firm,"  observed  Chajem. 

"I  was  not  speaking  of  business,"  continued 
Ephraim;  "  the  father,  wlio  hitlierto  has  had  us  all 
about  him,  is  no  more.     Shall  we  now  break  up  and 


112  POE  T  AND  MERCHANT. 

each  go  bis  own  way,  and  no  meeting-place  make  ns 
one  any  longer  ?  What  is  man,  the  Jew  especially, 
— who  is  excluded  from  all  civil  and  public  life — 
without  the  blessings  of  the  family  ?  Let  us  then 
be  one  heart  and  one  soul;  every  year,  on  the  even- 
ing of  our  father's  death,  we  will  assemble  here 
with  our  wives  and  children,  and  no  shadow  of  ill- 
will  shall  arise  amono-  us.  The  relisfious  festivals 
have  lost  their  sanctity  with  many;  we  will  regain 
it  through  the  family  festivals." 

The  brothers  pressed  each  others'  hands  warmly 
without  saying  a  word.  Violet  fell  on  her  brother 
Ephraim's  neck,  kissed  him  and  wept. 

A  pause  ensued;  no  sound  was  audible,  but  in  his 
innermost  soul  each  exchanged  with  the  others  words 
and  signs  of  plighted  affection.  Such  scenes  cannot, 
save  on  the  highest  or  the  lowest  grade  of  cultiva- 
tion, last  over  many  minutes ;  in  the  middle  class  re- 
flection presently  comes  in,  and  then  the  words  of 
Scripture  are  verified :  "  And  they  saw  that  they  were 
naked,  and  they  hid  themselves."  Not  seldom  one  is 
ashamed  of  his  soul's  nakedness,  and  so  it  comes 
about,  that  often  the  most  touching  moments  pass 
over  into  their  opposites. 

"The  fairest  jewel,"  began  Ephraim  again,  "the 
talisman  which  shed  beauty  in  his  eyes  on  all  the 
evils  of  life,  no  one  of  us,  unhappily,  has  inherited 
from  our  dear,  departed  father — I  mean  his  motto  : 
*  All  is  for  the  best.'" 

"  This  optical  view  of  life  must,  however,  be  classed 
among  the  rayons  of  prejuge^^''  remarked  Taiibchen- 
Theodolinda,  with  an  intellectual  smile. 


DIVISION  AND  DISPERSION.  113 

"You  meant  to  say  optimistic''  observed  Nathan, 
•*  nor  am  I  in  favor  of  a  grateful  submission  to  our 
Btern  Lord  God,  and  I  often  ask:  Why  these  fright- 
ful afflictions  ?  " 

"  That  we  may  keep  alive  in  us  the  sense  of  our 
need  of  redemption,"  answered  Ephraim,  "  and  wait 
patiently  for  the  Messianic  times,  when  Reason  and 
Humanity  shall  reign." 

"  But  I  do  not  see  at  all  why  we  should  be  the 
mortars  of  Judaism,"  observed  Chajem.  A  laugh- 
ter ensued,  which-  Nathan  sought  to  allay  with  the 
words: 

"Thou  wouldst  have  said  martyrs.,  and  hast  in 
some  measure  the  right  of  it.  What  obliges  me, 
nay,  I  go  still  farther,  and  ask,  what  gives  me  the 
right  to  sacrifice  my  inborn  claims  to  the  enjoyment 
and  the  pleasures  of  life,  to  a  free  activity  and  resig- 
nation, for  the  sake  of  appeasing  the  restless  ghost 
of  an  antiquated  faith?  Is  it  not  my  right,  nay, 
even  my  duty,  to  free  myself  from  these  fetters, — 
bend  or  break  ?  I  am  in  the  world  to  enjoy  it.  lle- 
ligion  is  made  for  me,  not  I  for  it;  in  order  to  be 
able  really  to  enjoy  life,  one  must  therefore  go  over 
to  the  ruling  church." 

"The  ruling  one,"  cried  Ephraim;  "that  is  the 
true  word,  thou  art  honest  enough  after  all  to  speak 
it  out  plainly.  To  rule!  that  is  to  egotists  the  only 
saving  power  of  the  Church.  I  should  have  to  de- 
spise myself,  I  should  do  despite  to  my  innermost 
thought  and  being,  if  I  ceased  to  be  a  Jew,  if  I  gave 
in  my  adherence  to  another  confession  in  which  I  did 
8 


1 1 4  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CIIA  NT. 

j    not  believe;  if  I  should  let  the  holy  organ-clang  of 
j    the  churches  be  turned  for  me  into  dancing-music, 
I    to   dance  by  it  a   gay,  life-long  minuet.     And  yet, 
the  very  hour  I  discovered  that  Judaism  hindered 
:    my  fulhlling  any  human  or  civil  duty,  I  would  has- 
ten to  the  church,  and  not  close  my  mouth  nor  rise 
from  my  knees,  till  I  had  found  salvation;  but,  as  it 
is,  Judaism  can  insure  me  all  the  virtues  of  a  man 
and  a  citizen  as  well  as  any  other  religion,  and  it  has 
for  thousands  of  years  poured  out  upon  us  even  the 
rare  power  of  endurance;  only  human  doctrines,  set 
up  within  it  and  against  it,  have  obstructed  its  fresh 
and  sunny  plan  of  life.     I  am  proud  to  be  a  Jew, 
one  of  the  oppressed,  I  love  Judaism — " 

"  But  you  will  not  surely  call  this  Jewish  pride  a 
virtue  ?  "  said  Nathan.  "  This  eternal  self-complacent 
endurance  and  compassionating  one's  self  is  nothing 
more  than  vanity  and  love  of  approbation,  as  I  once 
knew"  a  beauty  to  whom  mourning  was  very  becom- 
ing, and  who,  therefore,  wore  it  all  her  life  long  to 
show  her  grief  for  her  brother,  whom  she  had  never 
so  much  as  loved.  Thou  lovest  Judaism?  Why? 
Didst  thou  love  our  old  teacher,  who  gave  us  whip- 
pings whether  we  had  learned  our  Pensum  [task] 
or  not  ?  On  the  whole  thou  hast  a  singular  kind  of 
tactics;  thou  turnest  thy  back  upon  thy  adversary 
and  aimest  thy  blows  in  another  direction  where 
there  is  only  an  adversary  of  straw.  What  I  really 
said  was — " 

"  Neither  wouldst  thou  let  me  finish  my  talk,"  in- 
terrupted Ephraim.    "  I  am  certainly  no  Jew  in  the 


DIVISION  AND  DISPERSION.  \  \  5 

sense  of  believing  the  superstitious  legends  or  even  of 
regarding  them  as  beautiful,  just  as  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  Christians  are  in  this  sense  no  Chris- 
tians; I  can  and  will,  however,  abide  in  Judaism, 
because  within  its  limits,  also,  the  possibility  and 
opportunity  are  offered  of  a  preparation  for  the  true 
and  universal  Messianic  kingdom  of  the  Religion  of  | 
Reason.     Before  this — "  j 

"The  Religion  of  Reason!"  said  Nathan,  laugh- 
ing, "  art  thou  too,  one  of  the  alchemists,  who  will 
be  dabbling  in  Nature's  handiwork  ?     Religion  of 
Reason!     There  is  no  more  a  Rational  Religion  than 
a  Rational  Love.      Wast  thou  ever  in  love  ?     One 
falls  in  love  without  knowing  how  or  why;  and  so  it 
is  with  the  religious  man;  he  believes  without  know- 
ing how  or  why  he  does  so.     So  soon  as  the  one  or 
the  other  inquires  into  the  why  or  wherefore,  the  one 
is  no  longer  a  lover  nor  the  other  a  believer.     Relig- 
ion establishes  itself  a  conto  suo  [on  its  own  account] 
and  not  on  the  account  of  Reason.     Supposing,  how- 
ever, one  could  light   fire  with  water,  that  is,  that 
there  were  a  Religion  of  Reason,  or  a  Religion  in 
harmony  with  Reason, — as,  to  be  sure,  one  may  fall 
in  love  with  a  rich  and  handsome  maiden  as  well  as 
with  a  poor  and  ugly  one.     This  new  religion,  with 
its  book-keeping  by  doubly  entry  is,  nevertheless,  not 
yet  in  existence.     I  know  very  well  the  Liberals  say: 
With  us  every  one  can  sometime  or  other  make  a 
Religion  for  himself.     But  I  say,  every  one  is  not  a 
tailor,  and  every  one  cannot  dress  himself  according 
to  his  own  sartorial  ideas  just  as  he  pleases;  there- 


116  POE T  AND  MERCHANT. 

fore,  one  bespeaks  his  clothes  as  the  fashion  is,  with 
a  man  who  carries  on  that  special  business,  and  just 
so  it  is  with  Religion." 

"  Thou  art  right,"  said  Ephraim,  smiling;  "  with  the 
common  people  the  costume  [or  custom]  and  with 
the  cultivated  the  style  emanating  from  the  leaders 
of  fashion,  makes  up  for  the  want  of  individual 
'taste,  and  in  the  province  of  faith  for  that  of  indi- 
vidual conviction." 

"  Thou  huntest  my  simile  to  death,"  *  rejoined 
Nathan,  with  a  rej^udiating  gesture.  "  I  repeat  in 
other  words:  If  I  am  a  bondsman  and  can  be  free, 
shall  I  not  accept  the  chance,  because  I  will  wait  till,  in 
a  thousand  years,  perhaps,  a  Kepublic  may  come 
into  existence  ?  I  would,  if  I  were  a  Catholic,  become 
without  hesitation  a  Protestant,  because  I  hold  it  to 
be  freer  and  more  serviceable,  though  not  the  most 
so;  upon  the  same  principle,  I  may,  if  I  am  a  Jew — " 

"I  pray  thee  for  God's  sake  do  not  speak  it  out," 
screamed  Ephraim.  "  So  then,  thou  boldest  it  to  be 
no  sin  to  make  confession  of  something  in  which 
thou  dost  not  believe?" 

"  If  I  choose  to  do  it,  and  harm  no  one  by  it,  I 
commit  no  sin  thereby.  I  know  I  fall  five  and 
twenty  per  cent,  if  I  become  a  Christian;  if  I  wish 
to  marry  to-day,  I  am,  among  the  Jews,  one  of  the 
first  in  point  of  respectability;  among  the  Christians 
I  have  a  long  job  of  it  before  I  can  attain  a  mid- 
dling position;  but,  nevertheless,  what  are  fame  and 

*  Or,  "run  it  into  the  ground,"  as  we  say. 


DIVISION  AND  DISPERSION.  \\>i 

money  to  me,  so  tliat  I  can  once  get  out  of  the  Jews' 
street  ?  " 

"  Je  vous  assure,  I  have  decouvert  this  view  to  my 
husband  long  since;  is  it  not  so,  Mousy  ?  "  So  spake 
Taiibchen-Theodolinda,  as  with  her  left  hand  she 
flatteringly  stroked  the  chin  of  her  husband,  who 
w  as  quite  put  out  of  humor  by  the  laughter  which 
he  had  just  before  provoked;  in  the  other  hand  she 
held  an  exceedingly  rich  pearl  ornament  Avhich  had 
come  to  her  from  the  effects  of  Moses  Daniel.  "  You 
are  a  coulcmt  man  of  the  world,  and  have  an  esprit 
that  sends  up  rackets,"  [meaning  rockets]  she  con- 
tinued ;  "  one  cannot  live  in  this  world  but  once, 
wdiy  shall  not  one  enjoy  it?  I  ahvays  say:  E>}fin, 
wiiat  do  we  get  with  all  our  gains  ?  I  wear  hand- 
somer blond-caps  than  the  wife  of  Maier  Lippmann. 
I  am  certainly  not  a  fine  figure,  but  we  have  money 
and  culture,  we  can  and  dare  make  our  appearance 
in  society  and  move  in  different  cercles.  This  beau- 
tiful pearl-tedeum — " 

An  explosion  of  laughter  interrupted  Taiibchen- 
Theodolinda,  who  looked  around  with  amazement 
and  compressed  her  lips  more  emphatically  than  us- 
ual; her  eyes  rested  inquiringly  on  her  youngest 
brother-in-law. 

"What  did  you  call  that  ornament?"  asked  he, 
waggishly. 

"Well,  pearl-tedetim^''  Avas  the  reply,  which  was 
received  with  still  louder  laughter.  Taiibchen  rose, 
put  the  ^Q^kxVdiadem  in  her  pocket,  and  with  her 
husband  took  a  hasty  French  leave. 


118  POE T  AND  MER  CHANT. 

"Let  her  go,"  said  Nathan,  "the  Tree  of  Knowl- 
edge of  which  she  has  eaten  is  a  clothes-tree  ;  she 
only  wants  to  display  her  gibberish  wardrobe  before 
the  court-councillor's  lady  and  Mrs.  Major." 

"  I  see  not,"  replied  Ephraim,  "  what  right  one 
would  have  to  laugh  at  that;  the  material  makes  no 
difference;  it  is  all  the  same  whether  it  is  this  kind  of 
thing  or  a  routine  of  life  contracted  by  foreign  tour, 
that  one  seeks  to  have  stamped  with  the  seal  of  gen- 
eral recognition." 

"  I  am  not  so  studied  as  thou,  nevertheless,  I  can 
tell  thee  something,"  replied  Nathan,  and  drawing 
his  watch  from  his  pocket,  held  it  in  his  hand  as  he 
continued:  "Seest  thou?  whatever  time  the  hands 
point  out  on  this  dial-plate  is  to  the  very  second  the 
time  at  this  moment  on  the  town-clock  of  the  Eliza- 
beth church.  Why?  Because  I  regulate  mine  by 
that.  But  perhaps  my  pocket-Avatch  goes  more  cor- 
rectly than  the  town-clock?  May  be  so;  but  when 
other  people  have  noon,  I  too  will  have  noon.  I 
know  well  the  Liberals  say:  Judaism  rightly  under- 
stood is  far  in  advance  of  Christianity;  but  I  can- 
not do  with  a  watch  that  gains  time  any  better  than 
with  one  that  loses." 

"  I  understand  thy  longing  to  be  in  harmony  with 
the  world,"  supplemented  Ephraim,  "  and  in  the  striv- 
iu<2j  after  external  recocjnition  lies  also  the  o-reat  and 

'Tt  <:i  G 

sublime  consciousness  of  feeling  one's  self  contained 
within  the  creative  spirit  of  History,  of  being  ab- 
sorbed into  one  with  that  innumerable  multitude  of 
aspiring  spirits,  of  working  and  sharing  with  them 
their  homes  and  their  hours  of  festive  recreation — " 


DIVISION  AND  DISPERSION.  HO 

"  Yes,  I  had  the  same  feeling  once,"  said  Violet, 
who,  with  her  brother  Maier,  had,  till  now,  been 
listening  with  mute  attention  to  the  unwonted  dia- 
logue,— "when  two  years  ago  at  Whitsuntide  I 
journeyed  to  Glogau  to  the  funeral  of  our  deceased 
aunt.  It  was  Sunday  morning.  Not  far  from  Glo- 
gau we  came  upon  a  rising  ground;  such  a  glorious, 
freshly-breathing  balmy  morn  I  had  never  before 
enjoyed.  The  sun  stood  in  full  splendor  in  the  blue 
heavens,  not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen,  all  around  glis- 
tened and  sparkled,  a  solemn  stillness  brooded  over 
the  endless  expanse  with  its  meadows,  woods  and  vil- 
lages, and  here  and  there  a  lark  climbed  upwards  on 
her  tones,  till  she  was  lost  to  sight,  as  if  a  magic 
breath  had  drawn  her  up  to  heaven.  Suddenly  the 
morning-bell  pealed  out  from  the  church  tower  of  a 
neighboring  village,  a  second,  a  third,  replied,  ten, 
twenty,  from  all  quarters,  from  far  and  near,  chimed 
in;  the  drops  of  tones  floated  together  over  the 
whole  plain  into  one  holy  stream;  it  was  as  if  mil- 
lions of  peace-angels  rocked  upon  these  tones,  and 
spread  peace  and  joy  and  tranquillity  over  the  Avhole 
earth;  all  was  so  holy,  no  wheel  rattled,  no  bearer 
of  burdens  wheezed  under  his  load,  everywhere  was 
music  and  light  and  splendor;  as  with  a  low  whis- 
pering the  flowers  bowed  their  heads  and  prayed; 
a  holy  awe  crept  through  my  whole  being.  Ah,  my 
heart,  weeping,  said  within  me.  The  happy  Chris- 
tians !  Theirs  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  for  they 
have  heaven  on  earth ;  such  a  festival,  which  the 
whole  earth   conspires  to  celebrate,  when  the  holy 


120  POE  T  AND  MERCHANT. 

stillness  of  the  streets,  the  glad  faces  of  released  and 
gayly-dressed  peoj^le  proclaim:  To-day  is  Sunday! — 
how  blissful  it  must  be!  A  Jewish  festival,  spent 
by  the  men  only  within  the  damp  walls  of  the  syna- 
gogue and  by  the  women  only  in  their  kitchens,  how 
close  and  depressing  that  is!  O,  how  happy  were  I 
had  I  been  born  a  Christian  woman!  We  came 
through  the  village;  gayly-dressed,  each  with  a 
fresh  nosegay  in  her  bosom  and  a  prayer-book  in  her 
hand,  the  country  lasses  tripped  along  joyously  to 
church.  With  what  magic  chords  did  the  tones  of 
the  organ  draw  me  to  the  church;  they  rang,  roared 
and  quivered  through  all  my  veins  and  filled  me 
with  a  nameless  tremor.  I  did  not  feel  the  glow  of 
my  cheeks  till  I  wiped  from  them  the  tears.  O  God! 
why  hast  thou  given  me  no  church,  in  which  I  might 
adore  thee  in  deep  contrition  and  lift  myself  to  Thee  ? 
What  care  I  for  the  ordinances  of  the  priests;  why  hast 
Thou  shut  against  me  the  gates  of  Thine  own  Syna- 
gogue ?  Thus  I  prayed  and  yearned,  and  since  then 
I  have  never  been  able  to  go  by  a  church,  but  that 
the  swelling  tones  of  the  organ  wrung  from  me  sighs 
and  tears.  When  on  Sunday  I  see  a  Christian 
maiden  come  out  of  church,  her  black-bound  prayer- 
book,  with  a  neatly  folded  white  handkerchief  lying 
upon  it,  pressed  to  her  bosom,  and  mark  how  quietly 
and  contentedly  she  walks  along — ah  God!  I  am  so 
wicked  then,  that  I  almost  feel  envious. — How  beau- 
tiful it  is  'when  all  keep  a  festival  together,  as  we 
saw  last'  Whitsuntide,  w^hen  our  holidays  and  those 
of  the  Christians  coincided;  I  persuaded  myself  the 
bells  rang  for  us  also,  all  was  so  lovely  ! "-' 


DIVISION  AND  DISPERSION.  121 

"  Woe!  woe!  that  our  father  is  dead!  "  cried  Maier, 
rising  up,  deadly  pale  and  trembling.  "  Alas!  if  thou 
wert  not  dead,  venerable  old  father,  thou  wouldst 
die  now  for  grief,  or  wouldst  tear  the  tongues  of 
thy  recreant  and  apostate  children  from  their  throats! 
I  have  suffered  you  all  to  speak  out  and  speak  on;  I 
cannot  dispute  with  you;  you  have  read  many  God-ac- 
cursed books  !  "  He  seized  a  knife  that  lay  on  the  table 
and  brandished  it  as  if  to  make  an  attack;  all  shrank 
and  shuddered.  "  If  I  knew  that  a  drop  of  your  veins, 
a  word  of  your  thoughts  clung  to  me,  I  would  cut 
them  out  with  this  knife  and  bury  them  like  spoiled 
flesh;  I  dispute  not  with  you,  you  know  more  than 
I,  but  this  much  I  know,  that  we  live  in  a  frightful 
time,  else  God,  the  Lord,  must  needs  command  his 
earth  to  open  its  jaws  and  swallow  you  up  like  Korah 
and  his  cursed  crew.  Who  has  made  you  men  mas- 
ters and  judges  {Ex,.  II.,  14.)  over  the  Jewish  Relig- 
ion ?  Can  such  speeches  be  made  in  this  room,  and 
fear  you  not  the  shade  of  your  dead  sire  ?  I  repeat 
still  his  own  motto:  All  is  for  the  best.  Praise  to 
Thee,  O  God,  Lord  of  the  world,  that  Thou  hast 
taken  our  father  so  speedily  to  Thyself,  that  he  might 
not  live  to  see  the  falling-away  of  his  children!  I 
am  going  to  the  synagogue  to  evening  prayer,  to  say 
the  Kadiscli  *  for  our  father." 

Maier's  voice  trembled,  he  left  the  room;  the 
three  brothers  and  sisters  sat  in  the  dark,  face  to  face 
in  silence. 

"Light!  light!     Violet  let  a  light  be  brought!" 

*  A  kind  of  mass  for  the  souL 


122  POE  T  A  ND  MERC  HA  NT. 

cried  Nathan,  at  last,  "  I  suffer  not  my  head  to  be 
turned  by  such  stories.  The  saddest  thing  about 
conversion  always  is,  that,  as  at  the  exodus  out  of 
Egypt,  the  converts  have  in  a  two-fold  regard  to  die 
first  in  the  wilderness  and  not  arrive  at  the  promised 
land;  only  to  the  second  generation  is  this  privilege 
reall}^  granted." 

No  one  made  any  reply.  Ephraim  rose  and  strode 
several  times  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  I  should  only  like  to  know,"  said  he,  "  how  we 
ever  fell  into  this  conversation  and  how  we  ever  car- 
ried it  to  such  a  point.  It  began  so  peacefully  and 
had  such  a  hostile  end." 

He  too  left  the  apartment;  soon  after  Nathan  also 
departed,  only  Violet  remained  alone  and  wept. 

The  brothers  and  sisters  were  all  very  much  out 
of  tune  and  temper.  Ephraim  and  Nathan  had,  in 
their  quarrel,  risen  to  a  height  beyond  their  usual 
energy — as  indeed  one  will  always  find  that  in  a  con- 
test, whether  physical  or  mental,  his  forces  rise  and 
are  redoubled ; — nevertheless,  both  felt  that  they  had 
not  mutually  maintained  and  sustained  at  all  points 
their  several  views;  all  had  been  only  half  said,  and 
yet  discord  had  grown  out  of  it.  The  feeling  was 
of  the  most  tormenting  kind.  Clmjem  and  Maier 
were  each  in  his  way  injured  and  affronted.  Violet 
conceived  that  she  had  once  more  revealed  her  in- 
nermost soul  and  self,  without  being  understood. 

No  Passover-evening  ever  again  assembled  the 
brothers  and  sisters  around  one  table;  the  bond 
which  E})hraim  would  fain  have  wound  around 
them  was  soon  snapped  asunder. 


9._]srEW  ACQUAINTANCE. 

IN  the  Brody  Synagogue  the  seat  of  Moses  Daniel 
had  for  thirty  days  been  turned  top  downward; 
no  one  could  occupy  the  place,  for  the  Kabbala 
teaches:  For  thirty  days  from  the  hour  of  death 
the  soul  of  the  departed  continues  to  come,  morning, 
evening  and  night,  when  the  congregation  is  assem- 
bled, into  the  synagogue,  takes  its  customary  place, 
and  joins  in  the  devotions. — Tlie  second  sign  of  the 
death  of  Moses  Daniel  was  a  wax-candle,  prepared 
by  pious  women,  which  burned  before  the  lioly  ark; 
every  time  that  one  wax-candle  was  on  the  eve  of 
burning  down,  the  next  was  lighted,  and  so  they 
kept  up  this  "  soul's  light "  during  the  whole  mourn- 
ing-year. 

It  was  on  the  Friday  evening  after  this  first  thirty 
days  of  mourning,  that  Ephraim,  Chajem  and 
Nathan  walked  into  the  Synagogue,  with  an  attire 
which  these  walls  had  never  before  witnessed. 
Maier  was  in  another  synagogue;  they  stationed 
themselves  in  their  father's  place;  a  buzzing  and 
hissing  arose  among  the  assembled  multitude,  foi 


124  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

the  three  brothers  wore — queues,  and  whoever  wore 
a  queue  was  a  "  new-fnsliioned  "  i)erson,  which  was 
synonymous  with  apostate,  free-thinker  and  bias- 
plienier.  During  the  low  prayer,  in  which  all  the 
assembly  stood  facing  the  East,  where  the  holy  ark 
is,  the  torches  burning  there  were  heard  to  snap  and 
crackle  with  unwonted  liveliness;  a  low  murmur 
arose,  the  whole  assembly  pointed  to  the  three 
brothers.  Nathan  stood  smiling,  Chajem  looked 
out  with  a  dull  stare;  only  from  Ephraim's  looks 
there  spoke  thoughtfulness  and  inward  commotion; 
because  a  bold  orthodoxy  manifested  itself  here  in 
a  mythical  way,  he  willingly  supposed  himself  to  be 
impressed  by  it,  he  willingly  made  himself  believe 
that  the  "  soul's  light "  of  his  father  protested  against 
the  fashionable  innovations  of  the  children.  This 
belief  had  really  so  much  of  magic  beauty  for  him, 
he  would  gladly  have  taken  his  queue  from  his  head, 
and  made  an  oifering  of  it,  had  he  not  been  ashamed 
of  such  repentance;  here,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt 
the  embarrassment  which  the  consistency  of  a  con- 
scientious course  of  action  brings  with  it,  and  which 
involves  the  less  strong  characters  in  internal  dis- 
cord. 

When,  at  length,  the  congregation  broke  up,  a 
universal  murmur  encompassed  the  brothers  Kuh; 
no  one  returned  their  greeting;  suddenly  a  voice 
was  heard  calling  after  them  derisively:  cow-tail! 
[Kuh-schwanz  !]  it  was  the  voice  of  Ileymann  Lisse, 
who,  though  himself  inclined  to  free-thinking,  had 
not  the  courage  to  carry  out  his  ideas,  and  could  not 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  125 

suppress  a  witticism  against  his  own  party.  Hardly 
had  the  crowd  caught  the  hostile  watchword,  when 
all,  laughing  and  jeering,  cried  out  after  *the  three 
brothers:  "  Cow-tail  !  cow-tail !  "  The  victims  of  this 
persecution  were  saved  by  their  wealth  from  actual 
violence;  they  took  refuge  from  the  popular  scorn 
in  their  near  home. 

The  Sunday  after  the  three  brothers  of  the  queue 
were  summoned  before  the  Rabbin,  but  despite  all 
exhortation,  they  stuck  to  their  frisure;  the  Kabbin 
was  too  tolerant  to  visit  them  for  that  with  an 
ecclesiastical  penalty,  but  the  first  public  step,  which 
separated  the  brothers  from  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  congregation,  had  now  been  taken.  It 
might,  perhaps,  seem  strange  that  Jewish  orthodoxy 
should  prescribe  not  only  diet  but  dress,  but  for 
the  consistent  coherence  of  the  ghostly  authority, 
Jewish  or  Christian,  nothing  is  too  small  to  come 
within  the  sweep  of  its  net;  the  Polish-German 
orthodoxy  had  a  rule  by  which  it  forbade  many 
things,  not  because  they  were  of  themselves  con- 
trary to  the  law,  but  because  they  were  the  fashion 
of  the  non-Jewish  nations,  by  the  adoption  of  which 
their  rigid  exclusiveness  might  be  broken  down,  and 
the  way  prepared  for  an  alliance  with  them.  Among 
these  outposts,  which  covered  the  camp  proper,  one 
was  the  regulation  of  dress.  If  once  the  fashion 
and  the  way  of  the  world  were  allowed  the  least  in- 
fluence, the  moment  one  sought  by  dress  and  external 
usage  to  associate  himself  with  the  nations  among 
which  they  lived,  that  moment  the  Jew  lost  his  iso- 


126  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

lated  position,  and  there  was  no  calculating  liow  far 
the  spirit  of  innovation  might  extend. 

Ephraim,  meanwhile,  sought  not  merely  to  con- 
form to  the  outward  conditions  of  worldly  culture, 
he  strove  for  the  inner  and  intellectual;  an  original 
passion  was  hereby  developed  within  him.  So  long 
as  Moses  Daniel  lived,  Ephraim  had  been  allowed  to 
buy  only  a  few  books  that  related  to  business;  but 
now  in  the  free  possession  of  a  large  property,  his 
first  thought  was  to  procure  himself  a  choice  library. 
With  a  true  greed  he  sought  to  caiTy  out  this  plan, 
so  that  among  the  Breslau  Jews  the  witty  saying 
circulated,  started  by  Ileymann  Lisse,  that  Ephraim 
had  left  sheep's-wool  and  taken  to  hog's-skin. 

Seldom  did  it  occur  among  the  Jews  that  a  man 
of  property  had  any  special  fancy  upon  which  he 
spent  considerable  sums  of  money;  the  prevailing 
practical  spirit,  the  want  of  that  leisure  and  freedom, 
which  comes  only  with  inherited,  not  acquired 
wealth,  are  the  chief  reasons  of  this.  Since  they 
had  ceased  to  be  a  nation,  the  Jews  had  not  been 
able  to  trace  back  an  uninterrupted  possession  be- 
yond three  generations;  but  he  who  has  gained  his 
wealth  has  seldom  the  inner  capacity  and  outward 
opportunity  to  enjoy  it  freely. 

Ephraim's  passion  for  books  gave  rise  to  much 
gossip  among  the  Jews  of  Breslau;  they  generally 
set  it  down  as  a  crazy  extravagance,  and  the  fathers 
and  mothers  were  no  longer  eager  to  get  the  rich 
youth  as  a  son-in-law,  for  now,  when  a  war  had 
broken  out  that  threatened  to  be  of  long  continu- 
ance, hard  cash  had  a  double  value. 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  127 

Ephr.iim  was  at  a  great  book-auction;  he  had 
already  laid  out  over  a  hundred  dollars.  "  Martialis 
Epigrammata^''  cried  the  auctioneer,  and  praised 
the  manuscript  annotations  of  the  learned  testator, 
from  whom  the  copy  came. 

"Six  dollars,"  answered  carelessly  a  young  man 
who  was  chatting  with  Heymann  Lisse. 

Ephraim  observed  the  man  more  narrowly;  his 
whole  exterior,  despite  the  semi-military  dress,  be- 
trayed a  certain  genial  freedom;  over  the  clear  blue 
eye  with  its  unfathomable  mildness,  wandering  ignes- 
fatui  seemed  to  shoot  occasionally,  and  over-mas- 
tering asj^iration  and  discontent  quivered  in  the 
muscles  of  his  face,  which  were  now  unusually  ani- 
mated and  anon  relapsed  into  languor;  only  about 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  seemed  to  be  the  eternal 
seat  of  gay  genii;  that  smile  was  the  smile  of  a  deep 
and  loving  soul.  Ephraim  knew  not  how  it  was  that 
the  face  of  the  stranger,  which  struck  one  as  by  a 
peculiar  transparency,  should  not  sooner  have  at- 
tracted his  notice;  the  stranger,  also,  fixed  his  pene- 
trating look  upon  Ephraim,  and  the  latter  thought 
to  manifest  a  kind  of  secret  recognition  by  continu- 
ally bidding  more  and  more  for  the  book. 

"That  is,  literally,  a  martial  book,  Mr.  Secretary," 
said  Ileymann  Lisse;  "is  it  for  his  Excellency,  the 
commandant,  and  does  it  relate  to  the  war  ?  " 

"  No.  I  want  to  secure  it  as  a  recruit  for  my  regi- 
ment. There  is  a  bold  sharp-shooter  inside  there," 
replied  the  Secretary;  "last  night  in  the  battle  at 
Faro^  I  took  over  a  hundred  Prussian  prisoners,  a 


128  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

mere  hap-hazard  pack  of  fellows,  mostly  copper,  but 
boiled  wliite,  in  good  uniform.  Money  is  growing 
worse  every  day,  and  on  the  whole,  what  could  I  do 
Avith  tlie  money,  if  I  didn't  buy  books  ?" 

"Well,  I  always  say:  one  of  these  poets  is  a  very 
dijfferent  man  from  other  folk,"  concluded  Heymann, 
and,  as  he  always  did  in  speaking,  kept  his  head  and 
hands  moving  up  and  down,  and  then  looked  away 
over  his  glasses,  with  open  mouth,  up  at  the  Secre- 
tary, for  his  trick  had  succeeded;  Avhile  he  chatted 
with  the  Secretary,  the  book  had  been  knocked  off 
to  Ephraim  for  sixteen  dollars. 

Ephraim  now  committed  a  somewhat  awkward 
mistake,  while  only  meaning  to  show  his  politeness, 
for  he  offered  the  stranger  the  free  use  of  the  vol- 
ume; the  latter  seemed  to  notice  the  faux  pas  and 
asked  Heymann  who  the  gentleman  was. 

"A  namesake  of  yours,"  replied  Heymann;  "that 
is  Ephraim  Kuh,  a  book-A;eeper,  as  you  see,  for  he 
holds  a  book  in  his  hand." 

"Ah,"  said  the  stranger,  "you  are  the  person 
through  whom  I  received  the  seventh  scolding  letter 
from  Mendelssohn;  will  you  visit  me  sometime,  then 
we  will  talk  about  Martial  ?  I  have  hunted  up  a  Sile- 
sian  rival,  whom  I  will  edit,  in  connection  with 
Uamler;  we  possess  in  him  alone  a  IMartial,  a  Catul- 
lus and  a  Dionysius  Cato.     Do  you  know  Logau?" 

"No. — Where  shall  I  call  upon  you?" 

"I  live  in  tlie  Junkerstrasse  with  the  comman- 
dant. General  Tauenzien,  and  I  am  Secretary  Lessing." 

Violet  trembled  with  a  melancholy  pleasure  when 


NEW  ACQUAINTAN&Ey-,  129 


^^^ 


Ephraim  came  home  and  told  her  mli^J^mA^ 
had  to-day  spoken.  A  man  who  had  written'a'bbak 
seemed  to  her  a  demigod,  a  saint,  who  did  not  live 
at  all  like  other  men, — and  this  man,  too  !  the  one 
who  had  first  labored  to  appease  the  sorrows  of  her 
kindred  in  the  faith,  whom  she  loved  with  the  holiest 
veneration,  whose  words  she  had  first  learned  to  lisp 
with  stammering  tongue; — her  cheek  glowed,  she 
kissed  her  brother  on  the  mouth,  for  this  mouth  had 
spoken  to  him  words  of  intelligence.  Violet  begged 
her  brother,  when  he  went  away,  to  carry  her  re- 
spects to  the  poet,  but  hardly  had  he  gone  when 
she  hurried  down  the  steps  after  him,  and  begged 
him  to  do  no  such  thing. 

Ephraim  found  Lessing  at  home. 

"In  good  time,"  said  the  latter,  after  the  first 
greetings.  "  Here  is  a  letter  for  you  to  read  from  my 
Moses,  but  it  was  said  long  ago  in  the  Bible:  When 
Moses  came  to  Egypt  and  wanted  to  deliver  the 
slaves  by  King  Pharaoh,  or  King  Faro^  they  heark- 
ened not  unto  him,  for  short  breath  and  hard  labor." 

Ephraim  read  that  memorable  dedication  of  Men- 
delssohn's minor  philosophical  writings  "to  an  ex- 
traordinary man"  [Lessing],  only  a  few  copies  of 
w^iich  had  been  printed,  and  which  closed  with  those 
words  of  Lichtwer: 

"If  he  don't  hear,  nor  see,  nor  speak,  nor  feel,  then,  pray, 
What  does  he  do?  what  does  he  do?  why,  play!  " 

"  lie  plays,"  repeated  Lessing,  smiling,  as  he  walked 
up  and  down  the  room.    "  Good,  I  will  write  the  Fhil- 
9 


1 3  0  POE  T  A  lYD  MER  CHA  NT. 

osophy  of  Gaming  so  clearly  and  concisely  that 
men  shall  speak  in  future  of  the  four  Holy  Kings; 
Cross,  Spade,  Heart,  Diamond,  are  symbols  of 
the  four  elements  of  the  spiritual  and  material 
worlds;  my  French  adventurer  is  not  without  mean- 
ing reported  to  say:  Tous  les  gens  cf  esprit  aiment  le 
jeu  a  lafureur.  Say,  if  you  will,  that  the  first  re- 
mark about  gaming  should  be:  one  must  not  play  at 
all,  and  think  of  it,  perhaps,  still  less.  Play  com- 
bines the  excitements  of  chase,  battle  and  fireside; 
these  people  do  not  know  that  they  sit  and  show 
their  very  soul,  also,  on  the  card  before  me;  I  see  all 
its  quiverings.  If  I  would  not  stagnate  I  must  play, 
that  sets  the  waves  of  life  in  motion.  Do  you  play, 
too  ?  "  These  last  words  were  addressed  to  Ephraim, 
the  rest  had  been  half  in  soliloquy. 

"  I  am  played,''"'  replied  Ephraim.  "  My  name  is 
.Cross-seven,  because  I  have  many  crosses  on  my 
back,  or  Seven  of  Diamonds,  because  I  am  always 
hitting  against  something  or  somebody  with  my 
'sharp  corners." 

"Witty,  too,"  said  Lessing,  "exactly  like  Hey- 
mann,  but  with  a  mixture  of  bitterness.  That  is  not 
good.  One  must  swallow  pills  and  not  chew  them. 
It  is  a  matter  of  serious  question,  too,  whether  an 
unhappy  man  can  be  quite  an  innocent  one.  I  think 
not.  He  has  either  been  wanting  in  wisdom,  or  con- 
tinues to  be  so,  as  he  does  not  rally  himself." 

Ephraim  was  startled  at  this  challenge,  but  in  a 
])(;culiar  way  of  his  own,  he  strongly  em})hasized  in 
his  reply  his  repudiation  of  any  comparison  of  him- 
self with  Heymann. 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  131 

Ei)hraim  shared  in  this  unseemliness  of  so  many- 
people  who  begin  their  intercourse  with  a  new  ac- 
quaintance by  immediately  talking  of  some  old 
acquaintance  of  both  parties,  and  in  fact  censuring 
him;  Lessing  observed  this,  and  did  not  immediately 
reply;  he  wanted  to  allow  Ephraim  time  to  find  a 
milder  transition. 

"I  like  to  see  Heymann  sometimes  at  my  quarters; 
he  is  not  only  accomplished  in  the  tactics  of  chess- 
playing,  he  is  also  a  clear  head  generally,"  said  he, 
at  last. 

"I  cannot  help  wondering,"  said  Ephraim,  "that 
a  man  like  you  can  keep  up  an  intimacy  Avith  such 
people  without  either  bearing  the  sole  expense  of 
entertaining  them  or  else  of  being  bored." 

"  I  am  never  bored  by  anything  or  anybody,"  said 
Lessing,  and  a  gleam  of  displeasure  stole  over  his 
countenance,  "  else,  in  my  busy  times,  I  must  have 
died  of  inner  dryness,  if  I  had  not  for  two  days  had 
either  a  scientific  or  a  poetic  work  in  my  hands,  or 
been  much  engaged  upon  one.  Now,  when  I  look 
around  me  into  the  Library  of  Life,  I  find  no  book 
so  stupid  that  it  may  not  at  least  be  the  occasion  of 
some  sensible  thought.  The  contrast  keeps  me 
active.  I  have  long  had  a  desire  to  edit  a  journal, 
that  should  bear  the  title:  The  Best  things  out  of 
poor  Books.  When  I  liave  reached  the  point  with 
any  man  where  his  individuality  promises  me  noth- 
ing more,  or  even  repels  me,  I  instantly  place  myself 
on  a  higher,  I  might  say,  artistic  point  of  view  with 
regard  to  him;  he  becomes  to  me  a  study  of  charac- 


132  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

ter;  I  contemplate  him  as  a  special  and  original 
formation  of  the  one  eternal  primitive  Human;  I 
trace  out  the  logical  sequences  in  his  nature,  throw 
all  abstract  categories  aside,  and  search  after  the 
natural  right  and  natural  law  of  each.  I  demand 
not  of  any  bird  in  the  world  one  single  feather  other 
tlian  he  has.  As  the  landscape  painter  on  the  bar- 
renest  heath  can  still  make  studies  of  the  clouds  and 
atmospheric  tints  and  tones,  so,  too,  can  he  who  would 
sharpen  his  eye  for  the  conformations  of  the  spirit, 
find  everywhere  studies  a  plenty." 

"  But  does  not  such  study,  as  an  egoistic  one,  ex- 
clude love  ?  "  asked  Ephraim,  half  aloud. 

"  You  understand  Latin  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  must  be  aware  that  study  here  means 
originally  love^ — without  love  one  can  never  become 
acquainted  with  anything  truly;  I  love  the  universal 
human  in  each,  in  the  very  fact  that  I  strive  to  know 
him.  Only  he  who  loves  men  with  pure  good-will, 
who  unites  himself  with  them  by  sympathy,  by  that 
very  act  gains  their  soul.  I  mean  the  inward  knowl- 
edge of  it.  How  delighted  would  my  Dervisli  Hey- 
mann  Lisse  be,"  Lessing  concluded  abruptly,  "  if  he 
knew  how  we  had  raised  ourselves  on  his  back  to  a 
subtle  discussion." 

A  pause  ensued;  the  first  nearer  acquaintance  of 
Ephraim  seemed  not  very  encouraging. 

"  Here  is  the  Martial  which  I  have  brought  you," 
said  Ephraim,  at  length;  "it  was  a  Avhim  of  mine  to 
want  to  possess  all  the  editions  of  my  prototype." 

"  Your  prototype  ?    You  are  a  brother  in  Apollo  ?  " 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  133 

Ephraim  handed  him  shyly  and  with  downcast 
eyes,  a  handsomely-written  paper. 

"Bravo  !"  said  Lessing,  as  he  read,  "cutting  wit, 
not  yet  perfectly  sharpened  and  polislied." 

"  Do  you  think  rh^me  indispensable  ?  " 

"In  this,  as  in  ^A  things,  I  am  for  republican 
freedom,  but  it  is  a  merit  not  to  let  one's  self  be 
carried  away  by  rhyme,  but  by  skillful  turns  to  give 
it  the  stamp  of  necessity.  You  also  show  me  that 
Wernike  is  wrong,  in  the  opinion  that  the  German 
language,  on  account  of  its  many  circumlocutions  is 
not  adapted  to  this  species  of  poem.  Ramler  and  I 
have  changed  even  Logau  somewhat,  without  mod- 
ernizing him  in  the  least.  The  reader  is  nowhere 
so  unpleasantly  rebuffed  as  in  an  epigram  which  is 
quite  too  short  to  permit  one  to  overlook  its  uneven- 
ness.  Logau  will,  perhaps,  in  every  respect,  give 
even  you  more  freedom  of  mood  and  movement." 

Ephraim  was  enraptured.  He  now  related  how,  in 
his  leisure  hours,  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  giving 
vent  to  his  disgust  at  the  world  and  its  perversities; 
he  had  lately  begun  to  learn  Latin,  and  in  fact  with 
Martial;  he  had  ventured  to  imitate  him;  and  now 
life  had  grown  lighter  with  him,  since  he  had  found  a 
weapon  against  it,  else  he  should  have  wept  and  wail- 
ed; but  now  he  could  not  compose  a  jeremiad ;  all  day 
long  he  might  be  full  of  mourning  and  melancholy, 
but  when  at  evening  he  walked  up  and  down  his 
chamber,  he  often  had  to  laugh  out  loud  at  the  wit- 
ticisms that  shot  through  his  head;  he  would  then 
jump  up  and  in  the  fullness  of  his  exultation  and  joy 


134  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

of  life  leap  over  chair  and  bencli,  then  sit  down  and 
wliittle  out  ail  epigram,  and  then  he  would  feel  as 
light  and  happy  as  if  his  whole  being  had  gained 
wings. 

Lessing  reflected  upon  the  psychological  phenome- 
non, that  the  men  who  are  in  life  the  most  tender- 
hearted, when  they  begin  to  write  are  often  the  bit- 
terest and  most  overbearing,  and  vice  versa. 

"  You  know  I  do  not  generalize,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  and  make  every  Jew  I  come  across  a  type  of  the 
entire  confession,  but  still  I  think  the  Jews,  by  their 
l)osition,  have  a  vocation  for  wit,  satire  and  epi- 
gram. Wit,  like  salt,  is  not  satisfying  nourishment, 
but  it  seasons  food  and  keeps  it  from  corruption. 
Have  not  you,  too,  been  struck  with  the  fact  that 
wit,  in  your  nation,  is  more  the  small  change,  but 
that  your  great  minds  are  rather  pathetic,  or  subtle 
logicians  ?  For  instance  Spinoza,  Mendelssohn. 
Does  this,  perhaps,  lie  in  the  contrast  which — " 

"  Wit  is  often  only  the  ape  that  squats  upon  the 
back  of  the  camel  and  makes  faces,"  said  Ephraim, 
unfitly  interrupting  the  speaker,  "  but  what  cares  the 
great  world,  the  camel,  what  the  ape  carries  on  up 
there  ?  " 

"  You,  perhaps,  support  yourself  in  this  deprecia- 
tion of  wit  by  the  Swiss  clown,  Bodmer,  who  calls  wit 
the  itch  of  the  human  mind;  but  wit  is  in  the  men- 
tal life  what  lightning  is  in  the  life  of  outward  nat- 
ure; it  cleanses  the  air,  it  arises,  as  lightning  does, 
from  the  conflict  of  two  electricities." — 

Kphraiin  had  a  bad  habit  of  seldom  letting  any  one 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  135 

say  out  his  say.  Lessing  would  have  gone  on  to 
show  how  scarcely  ever  happy  nations  or  persons 
are  at  the  same  time  the  witty  ones,  the  Athenians 
being  the  only  exception  to  the  rule. 

"Now  I  understand,"  said  Ephraim,  "  why  my 
sister  Violet  (who,  by  the  way,  is  an  enthusiastic  ad- 
mirer of  yours,)  has  an  equal  dread  of  wit  and 
lightning  both;  if  a  tempest  comes  up,  she,  who  is 
otherwise  so  courageous,  shuts  herself  in  a  solitary 
chamber  and  closes  her  eyes  that  she  may  not  see 
the  flash;  but  she  has  often  complained  to  me  that 
every  time  it  lightens  she  involuntarily  opens  her 
eyes;  whenever  one  undertakes  by  a  flash  of  wit  to 
set  any  of  her  superstitious  feelings  in  the  right 
light  she  begins  to  weep  or  leaves  the  room." 

Lessing  begged  to  hear  more  about  Violet,  and 
Ephraim  told  him  among  other  things:  "My  sister 
was  a  singular  child;  as  early  as  her  sixth  year  she 
was  in  love, — and  with  whom,  think  you? — with 
none  less  than  God  Himself;  when  she  felt  so  very 
happy,  she  would  raise  herself  on  her  toes,  stretch 
her  little  head  forward,  make  up  her  mouth  and  kiss 
into  the  empty  air.  Once  when  I  asked  her  what 
she  did,  she  said:     *I  was  kissing  the  dear  God.'" 

Lessing  grew  more  and  more  pensive.  "I  will 
visit  you  next  time,"  he  said  to  Ephraim,  as  the  lat- 
ter took  his  leave. 


10._YIOLET. 

THE  house  of  Hoses  Daniel  had  worn  since  his 
death  a  peculiarly  free,  one  might  say,  bare  as- 
pect. While  the  father  lived,  his  own  strict  order 
reigned  even  in  his  absence;  but  now  the  children, 
who  had  grown  up  to  independence,  knew  no  longer 
any  limitation. 

As  Lessing  entered  this  house  for  the  first  time, 
his  glance  wandered  and  it  seemed  to  him  always  as 
if  he  must  ask  for  father  and  mother,  though  Vio- 
let's fine  sense  of  order  gave  all  an  air  of  neatness 
and  comfort. 

Ephraim  had  introduced  Secretary  Lessing  to  his 
sister  as  his  "  namesake  and  brother  in  Apollo,"  Lay- 
ing his  hand  familiarly  the  while  on  Lessing's  shoul- 
der. 

Ephraim  knew  only  two  forms  of  intercourse: 
either  to  be  stiff  and  reserved,  or  to  be  thorouglily 
familiar.  This  fault  will  be  found  among  most  men 
who  live  in  narrow  circles,  and  particularly  with 
most  Jews,  on  their  first  entrance  into  a  wider  range 
of  life;  partly,  their  hot  blood  and  lively  mobility 


VIOLET.  137 

lead  them,  as  soon  as  the  first  barriers  of  social  man- 
ners are  down,  to  leap  over  to  the  other  extreme  of 
familiarity;  partly,  custom  brings  this  about,  be- 
cause their  former  social  intercourse  was  confined  to 
Jews  only,  with  w^hom  they  were  on  terms  of  inti- 
mate familiarity,  and  had  no  forms  to  observe;  and, 
as  a  final  reason,  may  be  assigned,  that  a  certain 
kindly  cordiality  which  knows  no  formal  limitation 
is  a  fundamental  trait  of  the  Jewish  character. 
That  higher  third  step,  at  which,  within  the  sphere 
of  social  laws  the  unrestrained  force  of  thought  and 
love  can  freely  unfold  itself,  can  be  the  product  only 
of  a  higher  social  life. 

Violet,  however,  was  the  precise  opposite  of  her 
brother;  she  was  shy  and  timid,  and  hardly  dared 
to  lift  her  long  lashes  when  Lessing  spoke  to  her; 
only  when  she  thought  he  was  not  observing  her, 
her  looks  w^ould  linger  with  silent  satisfaction  on  his 
noble  features.  But  Lessing  could  well  feel  at  such 
times  that  Violet  was  looking  at  him,  for  in  the  look 
of  friendly  partiality  lies  a  peculiar  magnetic  power, 
and  mthout  our  seeing  it,  we  feel  when  a  look  of 
affection  is  fixed  upon  us. 

Lessing  could  not  avoid  confessing  that  he  missed 
here  the  father  and  mother  of  the  home,  and  he  asked 
Violet  about  their  life  and  death.  Violet  recognized 
in  this  inquiry  the  tender  consideration  of  the  newly- 
introduced  guest,  who  w^ould,  by  a  kind  of  appeal  to 
the  sainted  ones,  surround  her,  the  unprotected  and 
unguarded,  with  their  shielding  spirits,  and  conjure 
them  to  be  the  witnesses  of  his  intercourse  with  her. 


138  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

With  the  whole  sincerity  of  her  filial  love,  Violet 
now  related  the  history  of  her  father  and  mother, 
and  i)articiilarly  did  she  dwell  on  the  former  and 
called  it  a  loss  both  for  him  and  the  guest  that  they 
had  not  known  each  other. 

Lessing  had  a  peculiarly  happy  way  of  listening, 
which  encourages  the  speaker,  and,  as  it  were,  re- 
leases every  word  from  his  lips. — Thus  was  their 
first  meeting  on  hoth  sides  a  refreshing  one,  and  one 
w^hich  had  the  interest  of  a  long-wonted  and  only  re- 
newed relation. 

It  may  appear,  to  be  sure,  only  as  a  relic  of  orient- 
al usage,  at  all  events  it  struck  Lessing  very  agree- 
ably, that  on  his  oft-repeated  visits  he  was  always 
entertained  with  something  to  eat  and  drink.  This 
hospitality  gave  at  once  the  feeling  of  homely  w^el- 
come.  Once  when  Lessing  spoke  his  mind  playfully 
about  this,  and  remarked  how  sensible  and  kindly  it 
w^as  to  entertain  each  other  not  merely  with 
words,  but  also  to  quicken  life  with  bodily  nourish- 
ment, and  how  to  this  naturally  associated  itself 
the  symbol  of  the  love-feast,  Violet  said,  with  a  face 
beaming  and  streaming  with  joy: 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  you  do  not  decline  with  the 
usual  excuses.  But  the  poets  have,  to  be  sure,  the 
liappy  mission  to  accept  with  new  recognition  and 
love  what  is  done  involuntarily  or  from  habit,  and 
teach  us  to  do  it  in  a  Jew's  spirit." 

Lessing  was  once  alone  with  Violet;  they  talked 
of  the  prejudices,  favorable  or  unfavorable,  which 
the  first  impression  ou  meeting  with  strangers  left 


VIOLET.  109 

behind  it.  Violet  maintained  that  one  had,  as  a  child, 
the  true  feeling  in  this  matter;  that  we  knew  at  once 
who  loved  us  and  who  not;  and  that  one  might  keep 
this  childish  tact  for  after  life;  that  the  last  resort, 
the  feeling,  from  which  there  was  no  longer  any  ap- 
peal, had  in  this  case  become  the  first,  and  that  it 
w^as  a  fine  victory  of  feeling,  that  with  a  healthy 
glance  it  discerned  more  than  reason  with  all  its 
microscopes  and  spy-glasses. 

An  ambiguous  smile  hovered  round  Lessing's  lips 
as  he  answered:  "You  peel  off  for  yourself  the 
bright  red  side  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life,  for- 
getting that  there  is  also  another  dark  side.  Were 
the  prepossessions  of  the  first  impression  always  fa- 
vorable, one  might  perhaps  venture  to  let  it  have  its 
course;  but  consider  those  capricious  prejudices 
w^hich  often  attach  themselves  to  the  merest  trifles; 
our  momentary  ill-humors,  which  we  often  lay  at  the 
door  of  the  stranger's  appearing,  and  again,  a  secret 
embarrassment,  unconscious,  perhaps,  even  on  the 
stranger's  part,  which  shuts  him  up  within  himself 
and  prevents  his  revealing  himself  freely.  My  way 
is,  in  this  matter,  when  a  new  phenomenon,  which 
comes  into  the  circle  of  my  acquaintance,  inspires 
me  with  a  so-called  idiosyncrasy  or  inexplicable  re- 
pugnance, to  take  all  possible  pains  to  be  toward 
this  stranger  all  the  more  polite  and  amiable;  he 
will  thereby  turn  to  me  his  better  side,  which  is 
never  wanting,  and  I  have,  by  my  own  power  of 
will,  and  not  by  undetermined  feeling,  gained  a  new 
human  being  to  love." 


140  POE T  AND  MER  CHA NT. 

"Ah!  you  are,  to  be  sure,  a  dear,  heavenly-good 
soul,"  said  Violet,  and  pressed  her  lips  together,  just 
as  if  she  would  recall  the  hastily- escaped  word  and 
ref  asten  it  to  its  source. 

So  long  as  the  Jews  have  not  risen  into  general, 
social  life,  every  conversation  of  a  more  general  kind 
which  is  carried  on  with  them  may  very  easily  take 
a  turn  and  reference  to  Jewish  relations,  as  they  can 
seldom  let  this  point  of  view  pass  out  of  their  sight. 
In  part  involuntarily,  but  partly  also  with  the  design 
of  giving  her  unguarded  words  another  connection, 
Violet  mentioned  that  she  had  learned  to  read  Ger- 
man out  of  Lessing's  Comedy  of  "  The  Jews,"  and 
she  closed  with  the  question:  "  You  never  had  any 
j^rejudice  against  the  Jews?" 

"O  yes,  indeed,"  answered  Lessing,  "not  one  of 
those  prejudices  against  the  Jews  with  which  we  are 
inoculated  by  education  and  history  has  been  a 
stranger  to  me.  I  do  not  generally  care  to  speak  of 
my  own  things,  I  have  long  since  put  them  away, 
and  I  see  their  faults  better  than  any  one  can;  but 
to  you  I  may  explain  myself.  I  endeavored,  first  of 
all,  to  emancipate  myself  from  the  limitations  of  my 
class,  and  that  I  have  attempted  after  my  own  fash- 
ion in  the  comedy  of  the  *  Savant.'  I  went  on  far- 
ther, to  free  myself  also  from  the  limitations  of  my 
Confession,  and  to  show  that  the  highest  virtue  is 
independent  of  every  positive  creed,  and  hence  arose 
the  comedy  called '  The  Jews.'  What  we  do  honestly, 
and  though  the  immediate  occasion  related  only  to 
ourselves,  becomes  also  a  blessing  to  others.     That 


VIOLET.  141 

maxim  which  I  named  to  you  in  connection  with 
freedom  from  prejudice,  api)roved  itself  to  me  most 
strikingly  in  my  acquaintance  with  the  Jews;  I  am 
persuaded  that  all  Jew-haters,  if  they  knew  the  Jews, 
if  they  would  regard  with  undiseased  eyes  their  his- 
tory and  present  state,  would  love  and  respect  them 
as  they  do  other  human  beings.  The  Jcavs  have  one 
virtue  which  they  practice  with  enduring  constancy; 
they  are  grateful  for  every  kindness,  every  favor 
from  a  Christian,  and  never  forget  it.  I  learn  to 
copy  them!  I  have  already  been  repaid  manifold 
for  my  striving  after  freedom,"  continued  Lessing. 
He  grasped  the  hand  of  Violet;  it  trembled  in  his, 
but  she  dared  not  draw  it  back.  "  Without  this 
freedom  it  would  never  have  been  my  lot  to  gain  so 
sweet  and  estimable  a  friend." 

Violet  cast  down  her  eyes  and  Lessing  imprinted 
on  her  lips,  which  did  not  resist  it,  a  hearty  kiss. 
Violet  shrank  and  shuddered,  she  covered  her  eyes 
mth  her  left  hand,  her  right  still  lay  in  that  of  Less- 
ing, which  held  it  fast;  no  sound  was  audible. 

"  Do  you  love  me  then  ?  "  Violet  at  last  whispered 
softly,  keeping  her  face  still  covered.  Suddenly  the 
consciousness  awoke  in  Lessing  of  what  had  here 
taken  place;  he  saw  the  flame  which  he  had  kindled; 
to  play  with  the  highest  and  holiest  feeling  of  love, 
to  degrade  it  to  mere  toying,  or  to  make  it  a  lever 
of  ignoble  wishes, — that  was  far  and  foreign  from 
so  noble  a  spirit  as  Lessing.  He  stood  there  in  a 
painfully  dumb  pause;  gladly  would  he  have  let 
go  the  hand  of  Violet,  if  it  might/  be.     She  may  have 


142  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

felt  that,  and  softly  witlidrew  her  hand.     A  half- 
rhetorical  expression  came  at  last  to  Lessing's  aid. 

"  I  love  beauty,  but  also  truth,"  said  he  at  length, 
"  and  so  I  must  confess  to  you — " 

"O!  you  are  a  glorious  man,"  Violet  broke  in, 
"  this  free  confession  that  you  do  not  love  me  makes 
me,  compels  me, — if  possible — to  love  you  the  more. 
Fear  not!  fear  not  for  me!  it  is  quite  another  person 
who  says  that  to  you.  It  is  not  I;  the  Christian 
countess  says  it  to  you.  My  only  wish  is,  I  might 
be  double  on  earth, — on  the  one  hand, — let  it  be,  for 
so  indeed  it  must — trodden  down,  miserable,  full  of 
endless  yearning,  immured,  in  one  word:  a  Jewess; 
and  then  on  the  other  hand,  a  Christian  countess, 
free,  bold  and  brilliant,  full  of  joyous  life  and  refined 
culture,  that  I  might  fill  your  whole  soul.  How 
would  I  sit  beside  you  on  horseback  and  sweep 
through  wood  and  pasture,  how  proudly  would  I 
enter  with  you  the  sparkling  hall,  I  would  sit  with 
you  beside  the  still  fireside,  but  a  look  should  tell 
you  that  my  soul  was  rooted  in  yours,  firmly,  deeply, 
eternally.  Ah!  I  cannot  say  what  I  would,  I  am  al- 
ready talking  too  much;  but  one  thing  I  know: 
only  my  heart  would  I  fain  have  in  the  other  guise; 
I  would  bless  you  as  never  man  was  blest,  I  would 
love  you  as  God  loves — but  God  loves  us  not.  He 
wills  not  that  on  earth  a  creature  should  be  en- 
tirely happy — " 

Violet  sank  exhausted  into  herself,  she  pressed  her 
hand  to  her  forehead  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  Dear  friend,"  said  Lessing,  with  a  voice  of  ten- 


VIOLET.  143 

der  emotion,  "what  I  feel  I  need  not  tell  you;  here, 
where  we  now  stand,  there  needs  no  word  more  of 
union,  only  of  tender  mutual  intelligence." 

"Not  even  that,"  cried  Violet,  rising  erect;  her 
countenance  was  transfigured,  a  tear  hung  like  a 
dew-drop  upon  the  lashes,  but  her  eye  beamed  bright 
and  clear,  like  the  sun  after  a  tempest;  she  spread 
out  her  arms  and  embraced  Lessing  and  kissed  his 
eyes  and  lips;  "Farewell,  forever  farewell!  "  she  sob- 
bed out,  and  tore  herself  away  from  him. 

For  a  few  moments  the  two  stood  face  to  face 
with  each  other;  from  the  man's  eye  also  there  stole 
a  tear. 

There  was  a  knock;  Tatibchen-Theodolinda  en- 
tered. Violet  stood  motionless,  only  her  bosom 
heaved  and  sank  more  violently.  Lessing  turned 
aside  and  pressed  the  tear  from  his  eye;  it  pained 
him  anew  that  this  tender  soul  could  not  have  even 
the  sweet  sadness  of  farewell  and  renunciation  pure 
and  undisturbed.  Violet,  meanwhile,  quickly  col- 
lected herself,  she  took  off  her  sister-in-law's  shawl, 
admired  her  beautiful  toilet,  her  fine  appearance, 
asked  after  the  health  of  her  neighbor,  her  present 
reading — all  in  one  breath.  Taiibchen  absolutely 
could  not  recover  her  senses;  she  looked,  however, 
upon  Lessing,  who,  gazing  down  on  the  ground  before 
him,  admired  and  compassionated  Violet's  ready 
presence  of  mind. 

He  saw  all  the  inward  struggle  of  her  soul,  and 
Violet  rumpled  up  the  ribbon  of  her  apron,  and 
finally  tore  it  in  two  with  a  gnashing  of  the  teeth, 
out  quickly  said,  smiling: 


144  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"Ah,  dear  sister,  I  must  certainly  have  a  lover, 
and  one,  too,  who  thinks  of  me,  for  my  apron  string 
has  just  snapped  asunder;  is  not  that  an  unfailing 
sign?" 

Tying  up  her  apron  again,  she  introduced  Lessing 
to  her  kinswoman;  the  latter  was  highly  delighted 
to  become  acquainted  with  the  celebrated  auteur  and 
praised  his  writings. 

What  to  Lessing  was  noAv  all  literature  and  all 
his  own  creative  effort,  here,  where,  not  by  free, 
poetic  combination,  but  immediately  and  almost 
against  his  will,  he  had  drawn  a  soul  into  a  conflict 
which  approached  the  verge  of  frenzy  ? 

"There  are  moments,"  said  Lessing,  "when  I 
would  joyfully  sacrifice  all  I  have  produced,  if  I 
could  secure  to  a  soul  forever  dear  to  me  peace  and 
tranquillity." 

A  look  of  Violet's  expressed  to  him  inmost  thanks, 
and  Tatibchen-Theodolinda  succeeded,  unconsciously, 
in  making  a  witticism  when  she  called  this  speech 
"  the  calumniation-^omt  of  all  modesty." 

So  soon  as  propriety  permitted,  Lessing  withdrew; 
he  would  gladly  have  stayed  still  longer,  for  he  had 
said  to  himself  in  spirit  that  he  could  never  more 
return  to  these  scenes,  but  the  presence  of  Taiibchen 
was  uncomfortable  to  bear;  with  a  simple  farewell 
he  took  leave  of  Violet,  they  gazed  into  each  other's 
eyes,  they  never  met  again 

Thoughtfully,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
ground,  Lessing  was  crossing  the  Jews'  place, 
when  he  heard  a  repeated  call  from  behind   him: 


VIOLET.    Vvt-  143 

"  Mr.  Secretary  !  "  lie  turned  roiindr— the  mint- 
farmer,  Veitel-Epliraiiii,  from  ]3erlin,  Violet's  uncle, 
stood  before  him.  Lean  and  flabby,  shook  the 
wrinkled  skin  of  his  tawny,  pock-marked,  and  as 
if  worm-eaten  visage,  his  eyes  seemed  as  if  they  had 
been  pushed  far  out  of  their  sockets  by  insatiable 
greed,  the  receding  high  forehead,  the  pouting  blu- 
ish lips,  seemed  to  betray  cuiniing  and  slavish  sub- 
missiveness;  the  fine  three-cornered  liat,  whose  front 
peak  stood  up  in  the  air  like  an  open  bill,  sat  low 
down  on  his  neck  and  rested  on  the  white  neck-cloth ; 
a  fur-lined  brow^n  coat  with  long  skirts  encased  his 
middling-sized  form;  his  hands  thrust  into  his  side- 
pockets,  jingling  his  money,  stretching  forward  the 
lower  part  of  his  body,  rocking  himself  jjroudly  to 
and  fro  on  his  widely-parted  legs,  so  stood  Veitel- 
Ephraim  there,  an  incarnate  calculating-machine, 
whose  dial-plate,  the  face,  showed  only  the  per  cents, 
gained.  Lessing  found  a  moment's  pleasure,  for  the 
sake  of  the  contrast  of  his  own  present  mood,  in 
observing  this  face  more  closely;  he  therefore  listened 
calmly  to  the  inquiries  of  Veitel  touching  the  senti- 
ments of  General  Tauenzien  as  to  the  proposed  re- 
newal of  the  mint-contract,  and  finally,  instead  of 
giving  an  explicit  answer,  passed  his  hand  across  his 
forehead.  "To-morrow,  to-morrow,"  said  he,  "I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it,  I  cannot  now,"  and  quickly 
ran  away  from  him  and  out  into  the  open  air. 

"  An  unpractical  fellow,  who  never  will  come  to 
anything  and  I  would  gladly  have  put  him  in  the 
way  of  earning  something,"  said  Veitel  to  himself 
10 


146  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

and  looked  compassionately  and  contemptuously,  but 
in  fact  angrily,  too,  after  Lessing,  for  Lessing  had 
never  let  himself  be  prevailed  on  to  lend  the  mint- 
farmers  any  aid  in  their  dealings  with  General 
Tauenzien,  who  was  at  the  same  time  General  Mint- 
Director. 

Veitel  now  turned  back  and  went  to  visit  the 
children  of  his  deceased  sister. 

After  Lessing's  departure,  Yiolet  had  sat  awhile 
in  silence  with  her  sister-in-law;  she  rubbed  her 
forehead  with  eau  de  Levante  in  order  not  to  have 
to  say  the  few  words  that  she  had  a  headache. 

"  Entre  nous  soit  dit^''  said  Theodolinda,  "  I  fancy 
thou  art  in  love  with  the  Secretary;  he  has  certainly 
an  entertaining  a/r." 

Violet  smiled.  "IIow  canst  thou  think  that  a 
Christian — " 

^'- Pourquoi 2^cis f ''''  said  Theodolinda.  "I  tell  thee, 
in  thy  j^ositio^i  I  would  not  hesiter  a  moment  to  be- 
come a  Christian ;  thou  canst  then  marry  an  officer, 
and,  only  think !  to  be  a  Mrs.  Captain  or  Mrs. 
Major,  ah  !  I  should  be  in  exilmm  [elysium]  for  joy! 
I'll  tell  thee  whom  thou  must  marry:  the  handsome 
captain  of  Hussars,  with  the  coal-black  mustache. 
How  politely  he  saluted  us  last  Sunday  evening  as 
we  went  out  of  the  Nicolai-gate;  what  eyes  that 
man  has  !  So  full  of  enthusiasm,  and  with  what 
grace  he  sits  on  horseback,  what  a  fine  figure,  how 
splendid  ! " 

Without  any  preparatory  knock,  the  door  opened; 
Violet  sprang  to  meet  her  uncle  Veitel  with  a  "  Wei- 


VIOLET.  147 

come-in-God's  name  !  "  she  was  glad  to  be  released 
from  the  talk  of  her  sister-in-law. 

"  Since  thou  art  so  apart  friendly  to-day,  Violet," 
said  Veitel  soon  after  the  first  greetings,  "I  have 
brought  thee  a  pretty  present;  what  shouldst  thou 
say  to  a  diamond  set  in  gold,  that  one  might  wind 
round  one's  finger  ?  " 

"  Please,  give  me  the  ring ! "  said  Violet  to  her 
uncle,  who  teasingly  kept  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  at  last  replied: 

"  It  is  a  thing,  'tis  not  a  ring,  yet  has  a  ring." 

"  A  chain,  then,  do  give  it  me  !  " 

"'Tis  not  a  chain,  for  it  is  not  drawn,  it  goes 
alone." 

"  A  watch,  then  ?  Ah  !  please,  do  not  torment  me 
any  longer ! " 

"  It  is  not  a  watch,  for  a  watch  is  wound  up  every 
day,  and  this  thing  is  put  on  every  day." 

Violet  sat  down  again,  displeased  and  silent; 
Veitel  stepped  up  to  her  smirking  and  laid  his  hand 
upon  lier  smoothly  parted  hair: 

"  Na !  ninny  ! "  said  he,  "  must  one  give  thee  a 
hroad  hint,  then,  with  the  poker  ?  It  is  a  bridegroom 
that  I  have  brought  thee;  he  gives  thee  ring  and 
chain  and  watches,  and  all  thy  heart  can  wish  ! 
But  aprojws,  I  presume  thou  canst  write  and  read 
German  well  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed.  Shall  I  read  you  a  business  let- 
ter?" 

"  No,  not  this  time,  but  I  congratulate  thee,  for 
now  the  thing  is  as  well  liquidated  as  a  tlirice  se- 


^^ 


148  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

cured  mortgage.  Th y  bridegroom  must  have partout 
a  girl  who  can  read  and  write  German;  for  the  very 
reason  that  he  himself  understands  nothing  of  it,  he 
wants  a  wife  to  look  after  the  business  letters;  he 
could  have  girls  with  tliree  times  as  much  money  as 
thou  hast,  for  it  is  Herz  Moses  Helft,  whose  uncle, 
Levi  Gumperz,  was,  under  our  former  King,  the 
greatest  man.  Thou  needst  not  long  to  consider, 
thou  hast  a  quarter  of  a  century  on  thy  back,  and 
every  year  thou  remainest  single  and  growest  older 
thou  depreciatest  fifty  per  cent." 

Violet  made  no  reply,  and  when,  at  last,  Yeitel 
had  departed,  Taiibchen  cried:  ^^  Aide-toi  et  Dieu  f 
aidera!  Thou  canst  escape  this  calcul  by  a  coup;  go 
with  me  and  my  husband  to  church." 

Violet  thanked  her  sister-in-law  and  begged  to  be 
left  alone;  she  betook  herself  to  her  chamber  and 
threw  herself  with  a  loud  cry  upon  her  bed.  Her 
whole  previous  life  passed  by  before  her  like  a 
cloudy  dream;  she  had  hovered  between  longing  and 
mourning  ever  since  she  had  come  to  consciousness, 
and  when  her  recollection  brought  before  her  the 
last  hours,  then,  for  the  first  time,  she  began  to 
weep. 

«  Farewell ! "  she  repeated,  "  farewell ! "  She  kissed 
the  bed-quilt,  in  which  she  had  hid  her  face,  shut 
her  eyes  tight,  and  in  her  innermost  soul  beholding 
his  image,  she  smiled  a  still  and  blissful  smile.  It 
had  become  evening,  the  moon  shed  her  pale  light 
through  the  casement  and  transfigured  the  reposing 
maiden  as  with  a  tender  glory. 


VIOLET.  149 

"I  was  created  for  renunciation,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. "Were  I  permitted  to  live  alone  with  my  sor- 
row, it  were  well  for  me;  could  I  die,  it  were  better 
for  me.  Had  I  never  dreamed  that  there  is  a  fairer 
life,  I  were  happy.  No,  I  had  never  found  him, 
and  without  him  never  this  hour,  which  outweighs 
a  thousand  lives — him,  who  never  can  be  mine;  fare- 
well, bliss  of  love !  But  is  not  this  love  for  him  a 
spoken,  a  settled  thing  ?  No,  no  !  God  !  no  !  Since 
he  is  not  to  be  mine,  I  will  spend  my  days  in  lowli- 
ness and  renunciation.  God  !  Fatlier,  good,  Heav- 
enly Father,  take  me  now  to  Thyself;  send  Tliy 
Death-angel  and  release  me;  All-gracious  One,  take 
pity  on  me  !  " 

She  threw  herself  on  the  bed,  on  her  knees,  she 
buried  her  head  in  the  pillows,  sobbed  and  wept  and 
prayed  a  long  time. 

All  night  and  the  whole  day  following  Violet  lay 
in  bed,  weeping  and  wringing  her  hands;  she  scarcely 
knew  any  longer  that  the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks, 
she  neither  ate  nor  drank,  and  hardly  answered  a 
question.  At  last,  on  the  second  evening,  she  sank 
to  sleep  from  exhaustion,  and  the  next  morning 
awoke,  as  one  renewed  in  strength.  Her  relations 
besieged  her  more  and  more,  entreating  her  to  decide 
upon  Herz  Helf t,  and  begged  so  fervently  and  repre- 
sented to  her  that  their  only  care  was  for  her  wel- 
fare, that  she  was  touched  in  her  inmost  soul  by  this 
sympathy,  and  wished  with  all  her  heart  she  might 
be  able  to  live  acceptably  to  these  good  friends. 
Had  she  known  that  the  chief  reason  why  her  rela- 


150  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

tives  beset  her  so  was  tlieir  having  observed  that 
the  suitor  was  not  disinclined  to  Aved  the  daughter 
of  the  rich  Barmann  Frankel,  who  would  have  piit  no 
constraint  upon  her  feelings.  How  could  she  ever 
have  given  a  moment's  tliought  to  a  man  to  whom 
it  was  all  one  whether  he  possessed  this  or  that 
woman  as  wife,  who  at  this  hour  followed  one,  and 
the  next  another,  marriage-broker  ? 

Ephraim  also  urged  his  sister;  at  the  same  time 
conjuring  her  by  no  means  to  suppress  her  feelings, 
but  she  should  only  see  the  new  suitor  and  become 
acquainted  with  him,  that  she  might  have  no  re- 
proaches to  suffer  from  herself  or  others.  Violet 
consented. 

How  her  heart  beat,  when,  sitting  at  her  work- 
table,  she  saw  her  Uncle  Veitel  enter  with  the 
stranger;  with  downcast  look  she  returned  his  greet- 
ing. She  dared  not  raise  her  eyes.  By  degrees  she 
peeped  up  from  her  needle-work  and  confessed,  to 
herself,  that  she  had  fancied  the  stranger  much 
worse-looking;  she  could  not  help  smiling  at  herself. 
Veitel  fancied  that  referred  to  the  rough  jokes  with 
which  he  had  introduced  the  interview.  Soon,  liow- 
ever,  the  sly  old  fox  betook  himself  with  liis  two 
nephews  to  the  adjoining  chamber f  Violet  trembled 
through  her  whole  frame  when  she  saw  lierself  alone 
witli  the  stranger.  Tlie  latter  drew  near  lier  and 
spoke  of  the  piece  of  muslin  which  she  had  just  been 
liemming;  he  went  on  to  talk  of  Berlin,  and  how 
much  larger  that  city  was  than  Breslau.  Violet 
plucked  up  courage  and  asked  after  his  parents  and 


VIOLET.  151 

brothers  and  sisters.  The  stranger  spoke  with  touch- 
ing tenderness  of  his  good  mother.  Violet  breathed 
easier.  He  who  is  capable  of  such  filial  love  must 
be  a  good  man,  she  thought,  and  let  herself  be 
drawn  unreservedly  into  the  strange  windings  of  the 
conversation. 

Truly,  w^asting  sorrow  and  self-sacrifice  have  their 
aberrations  no  less  than  a  reckless  flying-out  at 
others;  only  it  is  harder,  in  the  former  case,  from 
sympathy  and  mild  forbearance,  to  exercise  justice. 

Who  knows  whether  Violet  in  her  renunciation 
and  subjugation  of  her  heart's  wishes  was  not  glad 
to  set  these  wholly  aside,  and  assume  the  right  to 
sorrow  and  its  burden  by  the  imposition  upon  herself 
of  a  new  duty  ? 

Violet  in  listening  to  the  fervent  words  of  her 
suitor  was  conscious  of  only  one  thing,  that  the 
world  was  not  so  dark  and  utterly  dead  as  it  had 
seemed  to  her;  there  were  still  human  beings  who 
pitied  her  desolate  condition ;  she  opened  her  eyes  to 
light  and  life. 

Violet  shuddered  inwardly,  when,  for  the  first 
time,  her  bridegroom  kissed  her,  and  that  as  uncere- 
moniously as  if  he  had  a  year-old  right  to  do  so;  she 
now  for  the  first  time  recognized  what  she  had  done. 

Three  days  later  Violet  was  the  bride  of  Ilerz 
Helft;  she  had  freely  confessed  to  him  that  she  did 
not  love  him,  but  that  she  would  try  with  all  her 
heart  to  live  in  harmony  with  him  and  be  true  to  her 
plighted  faith;  without  making  any  reply  to  that,  he 
smiled  and  hung  on  her  neck  a  beautiful  gold  chain. 


152  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CIIA  NT. 

The  saddest  was,  that  after  Violet  had  become  a 
bride,  the  good  people  in  Breslau  heartily  pitied  her; 
those  who  knew  her  and  those  who  did  not,  praised 
her  goodness,  her  gentleness,  and  her  tender  soul, 
and  were  sorry  that  she  had  not  found  a  better  lot — 
to  the  dead  the  good  people  are  always  just,  nay, 
even  merciful. 

Violet  had  cause  to  be  very  unhappy. 

The  same  day  on  which  Violet  had  become  a  bride, 
Chajem  and  Tatibchen  had,  in  a  village  near  Breslau, 
very  quietly  gone  over  to  the  Christian  Church; 
Chajem  received  the  name  of  Christian  Achilles 
Gottfried,  and  Taiibchen  that  of  Marie  Christine 
Theodolinda. 

The  dream  of  Moses  Daniel  had,  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  been  fulfilled. 


11. —WOMAN'S  LIFE. 

VIOLET  was  born  for  a  life  of  still  contemplation, 
almost  for  that  of  a  mm,  and  she  was  to  be  a 
Jewish  trades-woman.  Nothing  strips  off  the  magic 
flower-enamel  from  the  womanly  nature  like  bustling 
behind  a  shop-counter,  or  in  the  bar-room  of  an  inn; 
this  haggling,  chaffering  kind  of  life  and  this  being 
on  familiar  terms  with  everybody,  and  having  a 
constant  eye  for  bargains  and  profits,  all  this  is  so 
opposed  to  the  true  womanly  sentiment  that  it  needs 
a  profound  character  of  native  delicacy  or  a  quick- 
witted gayety  of  disposition,  not  to  fritter  away  the 
inborn  nobility  of  one's  nature  and  toss  it  into  the 
scales  of  trade.  What  a  long  way  from  the  trades- 
woman to  the  nun! 

When  Violet,  however,  on  her  wedding-day  was 
dressed  by  the  women,  it  struck  her  that  this  cere- 
mony resembled  the  arraying  of  a  nun.  She  had 
to  put  on  her  grave-gown  with  the  black  lace  cuffs; 
her  fairest  ornament,  her  rich  brown  head  of  hair, 
with  the  softly  flowing  locks,  was  mercilessly  cut  off, 
and  the  ends   bound  with  a  white   ribbon;    a  rich 


154  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

blond  lace  cap  was  drawn  over  her  head;  and  as  in 
the  case  of  the  nun,  not  a  hair  of  her  head  must  any 
longer  be  visible,  for  "  dressed  hair  is  immodest  in 
a  woman,"  say  the  Babylonian  Talmudists.  A  tear 
swam  in  the  eye  of  Violet,  when  she  saw  her  face,  so 
changed,  in  the  glass:  had  she  known  how  her  bride- 
groom at  the  same  moment  in  another  chamber  was 
quarreling  with  her  uncle  about  the  not  yet  com- 
pleted payment  of  the  dowry,  she  would  have  wept 
still  more. 

Violet  had,  in  a  twofold  manner,  been  implicated 
in  the  paragraphs  of  a  business  contract;  Veitel 
sought  to  supplant  his  rivals  in  the  matter  of  the 
mint-agency,  the  Itzig  company;  while  he  now  alien- 
ated from  them  a  mainstay,  Ilerz  Ilelft,  he  sought 
also  to  hold  him  fast  to  his  side  by  family  ties. 

Violet's  wedding  took  j^lace  in  Deutschlissa,  a 
small  town  only  a  few  leagues  distant  from  Breslau; 
Veitel  had  arranged  to  have  the  wedding-feast  held 
there  in  the  saloon  of  a  Christian  inn.  They  were 
just  drinking,  after  dinner,  the  black  coffee  (for  the 
Jews  are  forbidden,  after  eating  animal  food, .to 
drink  milk  in  their  coffee),  when  the  cat-gut-scraper, 
whom  the  reader  cannot  have  forgotten,  Jissroele 
Possenmacher,  entered,  placed  himself  in  a  chair 
with  his  fiddle  in  readiness,  began  to  cut  his  grim- 
aces, and  begged  in  Jewish-German  doggerel  a  theme 
for  his  improvisations. 

"  Coffee,"  cried  Ephraira,  and  immediately  the 
scraper  drew  his  fiddle-bow,  and  rhymed  the  while, 
to  the  effect  that  the  coffee  was  the  man,  the  sutrar 


WOMAN'S  LIFE.  155 

the  wonmn;  one  first  took  the  woman  with  tlie  silver 
tongs,  hut  then  afterwards  one  seized  liold  with  his 
hands;  many  a  one  made  a  mistake  and  took  salt 
instead  of  sugar,  etc.  These  fooleries  delivered  in 
Jew-gibherish  greatly  enlivened  the  company.  Vei- 
tel  listened,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  picking  his 
teeth;  the  hostess,  a  round,  robust  figure,  came  in; 
Veitel  arose  and  went  to  meet  her;  there  followed 
the  hostess  shyly  a  poorly-clad  wife,  as  she  seemed, 
in  her  best  years,  Avith  a  homely  face,  on  which  care 
and  sorrow  had  left  their  traces.  Veitel,  with  a  jin- 
gle, took  a  i^iece  of  money  from  his  pocket,  for  he 
loved  to  exercise  benevolence  before  many  witnesses; 
the  landlady  signed  to  him  confidentially  with  a 
wink  of  the  eye;  Veitel  put  his  counterfeit  fippenny 
back  into  his  pocket. 

"Na!  Frau  Annelisa,"  said  the  hostess  to  her  fol- 
lower, "  the  people  have  had  their  fill  and  won't  eat 
her  up;  she  needn't  make  a  face  like  a  cat,  when  it 
thunders;  just  put  on  a  brave  face  and  make  two  or 
three  nice  verses  on  the  pretty  young  lady  bride  and 
the  handsome  gentleman  bridegroom,  then  she,  too, 
mil  get  a  douceur." 

The  bashful  female,  thus  rallied,  opened  her  eyes; 
a  bright  gleam  flashed  out  from  them,  and  turning 
to  the  bride  she  said: 

"Little  bride,  so  wondrous  fair, 
Pray,  to  me  thy  name  declare." 

"Violet." 

Turning  to  the  bridegroom  she  went  on: 


156  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

**  Bridegroom,  who  for  her  dost  burn, 
Thy  name  also  let  me  learn." 

"Herz  Moses  Helft." 

The  rhymer  pressed  her  sun-browned  and  toil 
hardened  hand  tightly  over  her  eyes,  and  when  she 
drew  it  away  again,  her  whole  face  seemed  transfig- 
ured, and  she  began: 

"  Rose's  red  and  lily's  whiteness 

On  lip,  cheek,  brow,  are  all  vain  show, 
And  eyes  that  shine  with  noontide's  sunny  brightness 
Give  but  a  faint  and  short-lived  glow ; 

**  But  heavenly  Violet,  gentle  creature, 
Born  to  be  loved  of  all  thou  art ! 
Nature  has  written  on  thy  every  feature 
How  sweet  the  graces  of  the  heart !  "  * 

A  loud  "  Ah!  "  and  "Brava!  "  crowned  the  singer; 
even  Possenmacher  executed  a  flourish  on  his  fiddle 
that  made  all  the  strings  snap,  cutting  grimaces  at 
the  same  time.  Ephraim  took  a  platter,  laid  a  ducat 
in  it,  and  collected  contributions  from  the  rest;  Vio- 
let tore  a  keepsake  from  her  bridal  girdle,  and  j^laced 
it  in  the  j^late;  her  spouse  made  a  sour-sweet  face  at 
it.  When  Ephraim  came  to  Veitel,  he  said: 
"  Well,  was  not  that  magnificent.  Uncle  ?  " 
"  This  is  paying  too  dear  for  the  fay  on,"  replied 
Yeitel,  rummaging  about  in  his  pocket  for  several 
small  coins,  in  order  to  make  a  great  clatter  on  the 
plate,  "  as  I  was  saying,  it's  paying  too  dear  for  the 
fayon,  as  if  it  were  in  pierced  silver-work;  if  you 
melt  down  what  the  woman  has  said,  and  deduct  the 
rhyming  style,  the  net  proceeds  will  not  amount  to 

*  The  bridegroom's  name,  Herz,  means  Heart. 


WOMAN'S  LIFE.  I57 

much.  I  hear  thou,  too,  makest  verses.  Shall  I  tell 
thee  how  verses  strike  me  ?  " 

"Well,  how?" 

"  Where  we  live,  in  Prenzlau,  a  horse  went  by  one 
day  with  a  man  on  him.  *  Where  you  going 
Mousey  ? '  *  all  called  after  him.  *  How  do  I  know  ? 
the  horse  knows ' — was  his  answer.  Say  now:  isn't 
it  just  so  with  verse  and  rhyme?  Must  not  the 
thoughts  of  people  who  make  verses  go  whither  the 
rhyme  will  carry  them  ?  "  f 

"  You  are  a  great  critic,"  said  Ephraim,  smiling, 
and  brought  the  donations  to  the  poetess  with  the 
words: 

"Take  thou,  we  pray, 
The  gift  we  bring : 
No  hireh'ng's  pay — 
But  grateful  offering." 

"That's  right,"  cried  Yeitel,  "she  began  with 
Thou,  and  thou  must  pay  off  the  balance  in  full; 
whatever  one  shouts  into  the  wood  is  shouted  back 
again — says  the  proverb." 

A  quiver  round  the  corners  of  the  poetess's  mouth 
betrayed  that  she  was  on  the  point  of  again  express- 
ing her  thanks  in  verse,  but  a  correct  feeling  told 
her  that  this  would  now  be  improper,  and  with  a 
polite  courtesy  she  retired. 

Ephraim  stole  after  her  as  soon  as  was  practica- 
ble; he  found  her  in  a  corner  of  the  lower  room  of 
the  inn,  with  greedy  appetite  devouring  a  loaf  of 

*  Or  Smouch — nickname  for  a  Jew. 
t  "  Rhymes  the  rudders  are  of  verses." 


158  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

bread  and  taking  at  intervals  a  swallow  of  beer. 
When  she  saw  him,  a  flush  suffused  her  cheek.  He 
sat  down  confidentially  beside  her,  and  soon  they 
were  engaged  in  a  close  conversation,  as  if  they  had 
been  two  old  acquaintances.  The  stranger  told  all 
about  her  youth,  how  she  had  tended  cows  all  the 
summer  long — 

"Ah! "  cried  Ephraim,  "it  must  have  been  pleas- 
ant for  you  despite  all  the  hardships,  to  live  undis- 
turbed and  be  able  to  dream  on  the  sunny  mountain- 
meadows — " 

"  Yes,  in  thought  that  is  more  beautiful,  but  I  had 
to  look  after  my  cows  and  knit  my  stockings  the 
while,  and  if  I  came  home  and  had  forgotten  my 
knitting  over  a  book,  then  I  had  more  scoldings  or 
even  blows  than  potatoes  to  eat;  but  still  out-of- 
doors  there  I  was  always  gay  and  merry;  I  sang  to 
the  valley  down  below  the  songs  out  of  our  hymn- 
book,  almost  all  of  which  I  knew  by  heart;  and  then 
all  became  so  fre^h  and  fragrant  and  lovely  again; 
I  ventured  to  make  a  new  verse  to  the  church-song 
and  finally  to  compose  a  new  hymn  myself.  God 
will  forgive  me,  I  am  no  longer  as  pious  as  once,  for 
often  the  tempter  asks  me:  Wert  thou  not  happier 
as  a  stupid  peasant-girl?  Are  not  the  songs  that 
live  in  thee  thy  torment  ?  But  no,  without  this  heav- 
enly faculty,  I  should  long  ago  have  broken  down, 
for  my  cross  is  heavy — I  hope  my  Saviour  will  appear; 
only  I  would  sing  once,  with  free  voice,  the  praise 
of  our  immortal  hero,  the  great  Frederick — " 

"  Wliat  has  the  great  king  done  for  you  ?  "  asked 
Ephraim. 


WOMAN'S  LIFE.  I59 

"  For  mc  ? "  asked  the  poetess,  and  a  flush  shot 
through  her  face,  "  for  me  has  this  earthly  god  per- 
formed his  exploits,  greater  than  all  miracles  of 
old  time,  so  that  I  am  astonished  at  them  and  adore 
him.  Hail  to  the  hero,  who  against  a  world  of  infu- 
riate enemies  stands  immovable!  hail  to  us  that  over 
him  and  us  the  same  sun  shines!  " 

Ephraim  looked  thoughtfully  and  with  shame  to 
the  ground  ;  he  reproached  himself  with  his  selfish- 
ness, and  yet  he  could  not  love  this  "  great  Freder- 
ick; "  to  this  woman  he  was  a  hero  of  the  faith,  for 
she  was  a  Protestant.  He  compared  his  course  of 
training  with  that  of  the  poetess,  and  here  the  new 
position  in  which  he  stood,  revealed  to  him  again  its 
new  trial;  doubt  forced  its  way  into  the  very  holiest 
of  holies  within  him;  the  fount  of  the  Muses,  from 
which  he  had  hitherto  drunk,  appeared  to  him  as  a 
cistern  in  the  desert,  which  might  easily  dry  up  and 
waste  away:  here  he  found  a  live,  bubbling  spring 
which  meandered  away  in  shady  valley-grounds, 
through  the  flowers.  Even  the  poor  solace  of  being 
exalted  in  hours  of  devotion  above  his  fate  and  his 
circumstances,  seemed  to  him  hereby  still  more  im- 
poverished. By  a  singular  chain  of  ideas  he  sud- 
denly saw  how  four  rivers  had  poured  forth  from 
the  Paradise  of  poetic  inspiration:  God,  Freedom, 
Fatherland  and  Love.  He  was  no  longer  younof,  and 
not  yet  old  enough  to  sing  of  God  alone;  Freedom 
and  Fatherland  he  knew  not,  and  Love  had  hitherto 
hovered  before  him  only  in  formless  longing. 

"  Is  it  not  love  that  has  taught  you  to  compose 


160  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

such  beautiful  poetry  ?  "  he  asked  the  stranger,  and 
she  replied : 

"Without  love,  which  I  describe  so  often. 
With  no  tender  tie  my  heart  to  soften, 

I  became  a  wife — a  mother,  too  ! 
What  can  maidens  know  of  Love's  sweet  bhsses. 
Whom  a  rude  and  daring  soldier  kisses, 

Who  in  war  a  city's  wall  breaks  through  ? 

*'  When  Love's  songs  to  loving  hearts  I  render. 
Then  I  think  of  him,  the  man  most  tender, 

Whom  I  ever  longed  for — vainly  sought; 
Bride  ne'er  kissed  with  holier  desire, 
Than  my  soul,  in  Sappho's  tender  fire, 

Kissed  the  lips  I  felt  not  but  in  thought." 

The  dusk  which  had  gradually  stolen  in  saved 
the  blushes,  which  she  unnecessarily  covered  with 
her  apron,  from  being  recognized. 

She  related  simply  that  she  had  been  twice  wed- 
ded; her  first  husband  had  divorced  himself  from 
her,  and  now  she  was  married  to  a  tailor  named 
Karsch,  and  lived  in  a  village  not  far  off.  Her 
voice  trembled  more  vehemently  as  she  mentioned 
her  present  condition.  They  continued  for  some 
time  longer  to  converse  confidentially,  and  Ephraim 
rejoiced,  "  to-day,  wlien  his  sister  in  the  fiesli  was 
separated  from  him,  to  have  found  a  sister  in 
Apollo." 

"  And  let  this  be  a  brother  of  ours,"  said  the  poet- 
ess, drawing  from  her  bosom  a  loose  sheet.  It  was 
the  first  "  Songs  of  a  Prussian  Grenadier,"  whose  au- 
thor was  then  not  yet  known. 

She  took  a  little  bundle  with  some  bread   and 


WOMAN'S  LIFE.  161 

meal  under  her  arm,  extended  her  hand  to  Ephraim 
witli  the  words:  "Remember  sometimes  the  unhappy 
Fran  Karsch,"  and  left  the  room. 

Ephraim  went  out  into  the  garden  behind  tlie 
house;  it  was  a  fine  autumn  evening  and  a  moon- 
light night  lay  upon  the  earth.  From  the  kitchen 
was  heard  the  jesting  of  the  servants  and  carriers 
with  the  maids;  he  went  on  to  where  no  human 
voice  could  reach  him,  he  looked  up  to  the  eternal 
stars,  he  looked  down  into  the  deepest  recesses  of 
his  soul,  where  the  waves  of  his  spirit  moved  to  and 
fro  in  their  crystal  bed.  Suddenly  sounded  from  the 
silent  town  the  evening  bell  for  prayer.  Ephraim 
almost  involuntarily  took  off  his  hat;  he  spake  to 
that  Being  who  dwells  above  the  stars  and  down  in 
the  depths  of  the  human  breast:  "Lord  God,  there 
is  much  sin  and  sorrow  on  this  fair  earth ;  I  too  am 
sinful;  Lord  God,  let  me  find  her  in  whom  I  shall 
find  life  and  love;  lo!  my  heart  is  full  of  love;  give 
me  the  spouse  whom  thou  hast  created  for  me,  be- 
fore I  seek  her  in  erring  ways  and  am  lost!  " 

He  stood  there  leaning  calmly  against  a  tree;  his 
glance  swept  away  into  the  distance,  into  the  infinite, 
and  already  the  doubt  like  a  green  lizard  rustled 
with  bright  eyes  through  the  flowers  of  his  faith 
and  his  love:  What  has  Love  to  do  on  this  earth, 
where  all  turns  upon  its  own  axis,  selfishness?  And 
the  stars  overhead  there,  they  march  on  in  their 
measured  course,  whether  we  in  joy  or  sorrow,  war 
or  peace,  creep  round  on  this  earth. 

Suddenly  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  heard  behind 
13 


162  rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

him  the  voice  of  an  angel  calling  his  name;  he 
passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  as  if  he  would 
scare  away  the  dream,  but  the  call  was  again  and 
again  repeated,  and  nearer  and  nearer  and  more  and 
more  sweetly.  At  length  Philippina,  his  uncle  Abra- 
ham's little  child  of  thirteen  years,  stood  before  him 
and  told  him  how  she  had  seen  him  go  into  this  gar- 
den. He  must  come  now,  for  the  carriage  was  har- 
nessed, and  they  must  reach  home  before  the  gates 
were  shut. 

Ephraim  laid  his  hand  upon  the  head  of  the  child, 
whose  black  locks  fell  to  her  shoulders;  with  a  pen- 
itent look  of  thanks  he  glanced  upAvard,  then  bent 
down  to  the  child,  who  gazed  up  at  him  gayly  and 
innocently  with  her  clear  brown  eyes,  in  which 
scarcely  the  least  white  could  be  noticed;  he  im- 
printed a  kiss  on  the  smooth  white  forehead,  over 
which  no  care  or  compunction  had  ever  passed. 

"Wilt  thou  be  my  little  bride?"  he  asked  the 
child,  and  she  replied: 

"  Shall  I  too  get  such  a  fine  chain  and  such  good 
sweet  things,  as  thy  Violet  has  from  her  bride- 
groom ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  a  thousand  times  prettier  and  sweeter," 
said  he,  and  offered  to  kiss  the  child  again;  but  as 
if  from  some  mysterious  feeling  she  resisted  with 
all  her  might.  So  Ephniim  took  the  little  maiden 
by  the  hand,  and  went  with  her  to  the  house.  Phil- 
ippina skipped  and  danced  merrily  along  by  the  hand 
of  her  musing  cousin,  for  her  inward  liveliness  never 
let  her  walk  quietly  and  with  measured  steps. 


WOMAN'S  LIFE  1G3 

Ephraim  asked  his  uncle  Abraliam,  the  father  of 
his  young  elect  lady,  where  then  was  his  sister  Vio- 
let ?  He  learned  that  she  had  gone  off  secretly 
and  without  taking  leave  of  any  one.  Ephraim  was 
sad;  now,  when  she  was  taken  from  him,  he  felt  all 
at  once  what  he  might  have  been  to  this  sister,  who 
had  so  deeply  loved  and  understood  him,  and  whom 
he  had  so  often  thrust  from  him. 

Ephraim  knew  not  fully  the  unfathomable  sorrow 
of  this  lost  soul.  Since  the  hour  of  her  betrothal, 
when  she  felt  she  must  obey  an  unchangeable  neces- 
sity, Violet  had  yielded  without  a  will  of  her  own 
to  all  the  consequences  of  that  moment;  nay,  she 
took  pleasure  in  this  martyrdom;  but  still  the  con- 
sciousness of  her  fall  from  her  own  better  self  stir- 
red within  her;  she  feared  an  unguarded  word 
might  betray  it,  and  therefore  she  thanked  her  hus- 
band with  tears  in  her  eyes  when  he  complied  with 
her  first  request,  and  secretly  went  off  with  her  on  a 
journey. 

Peace  and  rest  to  their  extinguished  life! 

The  wedding  guests  all  made  ready  to  return 
home,  only  Veitel  remained  behind. 

Ephraim  was  sitting  in  the  carriage  with  his  uncle 
Abraham  and  wife  and  little  Philippina. 

"  It  will  soon  be  time  for  thee  to  look  about  for  a 
spouse,"  said  Abraham  to  his  nephew. 

"I  have  done  so  already,  and  here  she  sits,"  said 
Ephraim,  pointing  to  Philippina.  Abraham  smiled, 
for  he  took  it  as  a  joke;  but  his  shrewd  wife  silently 
calculated  that  Philippina  in  three  years  would  be 
sixteen,  exactly  the  age  at  which  she  was  married. 


164  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

It  might  have  been  regarded  as  prefigurative,  that 
Philippina  during  this  longer  conversation  had  al- 
ready dropped  to  sleep;  her  gay  childhood  could  not 
guess  what  preparations  were  going  on  around  her, 
and  when  she  awoke  to  conscious  life,  Ephraim 
would  fain  clasp  her  in  his  arms. 

It  may  in  manifold  ways  be  regarded  as  a  sign 
of  one's  having  morally  or  physically  outlived  him- 
self when  mature  youths  or  men  take  their  wives 
from  the  nursery.  It  is  a  new  charm  to  the  biases, 
a  safe  security  for  the  deceived  and  disappointed; 
very  seldom  is  it  a  consequence  of  original  and  un- 
touched purity;  disguised  cowardice  or  self-compla- 
cency lies  very  often  in  the  background.  One  is 
here  so  certain  of  his  victory;  the  striving  after  di- 
rect overmastery,  built  upon  an  accustomed  relation 
of  dependence,  is  not  seldom  the  secret  motive  of 
those  child-loving  men.  Only  two  equally  devel- 
oped spirits,  at  a  corresponding  stage  of  maturity, 
can  clasp  each  other  in  genuine  and  enduring  love; 
but  that  that  higher  similarity,  which  is  at  the  same 
time  the  true  unity,  must  rule  in  love  as  in  marriage, 
this  is  a  point  to  which  but  few  men  can  attain. 

Ephraim,  in  his  continued  attachment  to  I*hilip- 
pina,  was  conscious  of  the  noblest  motives:  he  would 
educate  for  himself  a  wife,  pure,  free  and  full  of 
fresh  life,  he  would  early  open  her  eye  and  heart  to 
life's  finest  meanings;  he  would  lead  her  youth  con- 
sciously into  riper  age;  he  would  bend  back  before 
her  the  branches  which  hit  us  in  the  face  when,  in 
the  woods  of  error,  we  seek  the  tree  of  truth  and 


WOMAN'S  LIFE.  165 

knowledge;  with  the  nohlcst  and  purest  sentiments 
of  his  own  life  he  would  nourish  her  virtue;  but 
above  all,  he  would  let  her  feelings  and  hopes,  her 
love  and  longing,  ere  yet  the  breath  of  a  stranger 
had  touched  or  a  passing  cloud  brooded  over  them, 
find  in  his  spirit  a  resting-place  and  an  echo. 

Great  and  incessant,  however,  as  were  the  pains 
Ephraim  took  in  the  training  and  teaching  of  Phil- 
ippina,  nevertheless  he  could  not  succeed  in  keeping 
in  his  hands  the  bridle  of  her  spirit  and  guiding  it 
at  his  will.  The  coy  and  wayward  nature  of  Phil- 
ippina  often  threw  suddenly  his  artistically  modeled 
ideals  topsy-turvy;  the  elasticity  of  her  spirits  caused 
his  exhortations  at  such  times  to  bound  off  without 
a  trace.  The  natural  tact  of  children  often  makes 
them  the  quickest  to  discern  the  faults  and  whims  of 
those  around  them,  especially  their  teachers.  Phil- 
ippina  had  soon  observed  that  her  master,  who  led 
her  through  the  story  of  Telemachus,  took  jDleasure  in 
the  dissection  of  feeling,  in  coquetting  with  sorroAV. 
The  headstrongness  and  the  overflowing  raillery  of 
Philippina;,  whose  mind  rapidly  developed,  often 
brought  Ephraim  to  the  brink  of  despair,  for  he  was 
at  this  time  doubly  sensitive  and  susceptible. 

In  a  life  wherein  every  new  morning  offers  new 
strife  and  struggle,  when  one  feels  himself  not  un- 
consciously nor  heedlessly  borne  along  by  the  stream 
of  universal  excitement,  there  will  be  formed  a 
steady  observation,  adjustment,  and  in  a  certain 
sense,  a  book-keeping  of  one's  own  nature,  w^hich 
may  lead  to  self -education,  but  at  the  same  time  to 
self-torment. 


166  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Though  nearly  thirty  years  okl,  Ephraim  still  be- 
lieved he  had  mistaken  his  position  in  life;  the  occu- 
pation of  a  merchant  seemed  to  him  to  contradict 
his  inner  nature;  he  deemed  himself  born  to  be  a 
litterateur;  a  born  poet  he  no  longer  held  himself  to 
be,  for  he  very  seldom  succeeded  in  "  flying  to  the 
land  of  Poesy."  He  consoled  himself  with  thinking 
that  he  had  enough  sense  of  poetry  and  its  tenderer 
stirrings  to  enable  him  to  enjoy  life  and  love  in  their 
deepest  felicities;  the  consciousness  of  neglect,  the 
still  mourning  over  the  disorders  of  life,  should  find 
in  love  their  expiation  and  exaltation.  Born  of 
resignation,  love  should  nevertheless  open  to  him 
her  inexhaustible  fullness;  and  hence  he  became 
chagrined  and  sad  Avhen  he  fancied  Philippina  in- 
diiferent  to  the  tenderer  aspirations  of  the  genial 
life;  he  had  been  compelled  to  give  up  general  soci- 
ety and  poetic  creativeness,  and  noAV  he  must  re- 
nounce love  also. 

If  Ephraim's  vision  had  not  been  vi^rapped  in  mani- 
fold mists,  he  could  not  have  failed  to  recognize  the 
true  nature  of  Philippina  and  to  appreciate  her  heal- 
ing-power for  his  sickly  inner  condition.  A  disposi- 
tion like  that  of  his  sister  Violet,  in  whom  his  mel- 
ancholy and  his  wailing  had  found  only  an  answering 
echo,  would  only  have  aggravated  his  morbid  ten- 
dencies, not  appeased  them;  here  in  Philijjpina  was 
youthful  buoyancy  and  vigor  of  life;  what  cared  she 
for  Judaism  or  Christianity  ?  The  sun  was  bright, 
the  flowers  fragrant,  her  songs  rang  out  clearly,  and 
sky-blue  became  her  right  well. 


WOMAN'S  LIFE.  IG'7 

The  Italian  songs  which  Philippina,  with  fresh 
and  sprightly  voice,  sang  to  the  lute,  had  now  be- 
come almost  the  only  thing  that  made  his  inter- 
course with  her  cheering  to  Ephraim;  they  were 
mostly  of  a  sportive,  bantering  character,  and 
Ephraim  silently  made  the  observation  that  even  the 
bird  in  the  cage  can  dream  himself  away  on  the 
wing  of  his  song  into  the  free,  murmuring  wood, 
and  rock  himself  there  in  the  branches.  If  Philip- 
pina remarked  his  being  out  of  humor,  she  imper- 
ceptibly struck  a  minor  key,  and  sang  a  love-song 
full  of  melting  fervor;  stealing  the  while  sly  and 
roguish  glances  at  him,  she  would  see  how  his  eye 
lighted  up  and  his  whole  being  became  animated, 
for  where  such  tones  issue  from  the  soul,  there 
must,  he  said  to  himself,  be  a  deeper  recognition; 
but  suddenly  the  spirit  of  wantonness  got  the  upper 
hand,  and  she  not  seldom  j^arodied  what  she  had 
just  sung. 

When  Ephraim  delivered  his  ideas  and  informa- 
tion with  all  earnestness,  Philippina  would  often 
take  pains  to  misunderstand  him;  when  in  the  course 
of  conversation  he  would  unfold  to  her  a  new  view, 
she  would  glide  over  it  without  attention. 

Once,  as  Ephraim  was  analyzing  to  Philippina 
in  inspired  words  the  loftiness  of  the  productions  of 
Racine  and  Corneille,  she  seemed  to  be  listening  at- 
tentively, but  said  at  length:  "I  do  not  know 
whether  these  heroes  can  eat  soup  and  meat  and 
wear  stockings.  I  cannot  imagine  what  they  have 
to  occupy  themselves  with  in  life." 


168  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

A  profound  grief  gnawed  at  Ephraim's  soul. 
When  he  was  at  home,  he  used,  in  the  spirit,  to  con- 
verse by  the  hour  with  Philippina;  the  roundness 
and  freshness  of  her  nature  grew  more  and  more 
clear  to  him;  with  heart  beating  high  he  went  day 
after  day  to  her  house,  and  left  it  again,  silent,  self- 
absorbed  and  desolate,  to  pursue  again  the  same 
path  the  next  day  with  the  same  hopes  and  disap- 
pointments. 

Nothing  is  easier  for  a  man  of  some  intellectual 
ability,  but  nothing  more  dangerous,  than  in  a  lim- 
ited sphere  of  life,  and  one  devoted  to  the  gaining 
of  a  livelihood,  to  make  himself  felt  as  a  superior 
mind,  a  genius,  and  to  appropriate  to  himself  the 
social  and  royal  prerogatives  of  such  majesty. 
Hardly  had  Ephraim  in  the  silent  consciousness  of 
his  higher  aspirings  overcome  the  incipient  jeers  at 
his  unpractical  crotchets,  when  he  already  began  to 
take  pleasure  in  this  antagonism  to  his  circum- 
stances, and  to  take  pains  to  bring  it  out  in  sharper 
relief;  he  was  even  gratified  at  times  to  be  called 
un practicable,  transcendental  and  enthusiastic;  he 
would  then  smile  silently,  for  he  saw  therein  only 
the  confirmation  of  what  he  ascribed  to  himself  as  a 
just  pride.  Often  he  would  go  into  Philippina's 
room,  hastily  throw  off  his  hat  and  cloak,  seat  him- 
self musingly  in  a  corner,  or  stride  up  and  down  the 
room,  raking  his  hair  with  his  hands;  then  when 
Pliilippina  modestly  asked  the  cause  of  this,  he  gen- 
erally said:  "Let  me  be,  I  am  excited,  it  will  soon 
die  out,  of  itself." 


WOMAN'S  LIFE.  169 

Once,  when  at  twilight  he  had  entered  her  room 
in  this  style,  Philippina  stole  softly  to  the  chair, 
took  his  cloak,  wrapped  herself  up  in  it,  and  storm- 
ing up  and  down  the  chamber,  tearing  through  her 
locks  with  her  hands,  she  cried :  "  Leave  me,  I  am 
excited,  my  name  is  Narr* — cissus,  Narr — cissus!" 
She  swung  herself  about  with  such  inexpressible 
grace,  her  perfectly  developed  form  moved  so  har- 
moniously and  freely,  on  her  arch  face  lay  such  a 
lovely  smile,  that  any  other  would  have  clasped  her 
Avith  rapture;  only  Ephraim  sat  there  cold  and 
grum.  Philippina  quietly  took  the  cloak  off  again, 
and  from  that  hour  there  was  a  gulf  between  her 
and  Ephraim.  She  perceived  that  he  would  not 
recognize  her  proper  and  peculiar  nature,  and 
wanted  tyrannically  to  remodel  her  after  his  own 
wishes.  The  railleries  and  little  quarrels  which  the 
two  now  continually  kept  up  on  both  sides  divided 
them  more  and  more  widely,  and  Ephraim  at  last 
withdrew  from  the  field. 

*  German  for  Jbol. 


12— THE  PRACTICAL  HEAD. 

EPHRAIM  formed  the  resolution  to  retire  from 
business  and  live  a  life  of  leisure;  he  had  been 
disappointed  in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  build  him- 
self up  a  domestic  life  of  his  own  on  the  firm  ground 
of  love;  he  needed  now  no  longer  any  increase  of 
property,  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  own  wants  his 
present  means  were  fully  adequate.  Lessing  had 
advised  him  to  make  himself  master  of  the  rules  of 
German  prosody,  and  now  when  he  had  been  all 
day  long  counting,  weighing  and  verifying  moneys, 
he  went  in  the  evening  to  a  similar  labor  with  words 
and  syllables;  each  must  legitimate  itself  as  to  ex- 
traction, character  and  current  value;  here  too  he 
cultivated  his  most  frequent  and  finely  measured 
intercourse  with  the  female  sex — the  accented  sylla- 
bles. All  went  on  after  the  strictest  order  of  pre- 
cedence, for  up  at  the  head  sat  Themis  in  the  form 
of  Professor  Ramler  on  Parnassus,  that  is,  in  his 
critical  chair,  and  behind  him  a  great  blackboard, 
on  which  the  sins  of  all  heedless  or  willful  traitors  to 
the  law  were  chalked  down. 


THE  PRACTICAL  HEAD.  171 

ITndcM-  the  pretext  of  illness  Eplirnlm  sat  fit  first, 
l)y  way  of  experiment,  for  some  days  in  his  chamher. 
He  waits  the  coming  of  a  heavenly  visitor:  there  lie 
sits  at  the  table, — all  is  still  around  him,  not  a  mur- 
mur of  the  eternal  rush  and  roar  of  the  world's  life 
reaches  him,  he  can  listen  to  the  lightest  whisper  of 
his  inner  being;  from  all  experiences,  references,  and 
connecting  links  with  every-day  life  he  has  disen- 
tangled himself  entirely;  he  will  soar  freely  into 
the  free  ether,  into  that  higher  stratum  of  the  at- 
mosphere where  the  mists  and  vapors  of  this  lower 
sphere  are  melted  away,  there  will  he  absorb  a  lumi- 
nous ray  of  genius,  of  divinity  and  of  original  hu- 
manity and  bind  it  as  a  halo  around  his  brow. 
But  suddenly  there  starts  up  before  him  some  mem- 
ory, some  thought,  some  person  from  the  terrestrial 
region;  his  father,  or  Heymann  Lisse  stand  suddenly 
before  him,  and  he  finds  himself  creeping  and  pant- 
ing on  the  ground.  This  overstrained,  every-day, 
life-despising  ideality  had  suddenly  sprung  back  to 
its  opposite;  for  the  very  reason  that  he  fancied  he 
might  and  must  poetize  outside  of,  and  above,  his  life 
and  work,  for  the  very  reason  that  he  did  not  attempt 
to  glorify  and  harmonize  this  life  itself,  so  much  the 
more  forcibly  did  it  fasten  itself  upon  him  as  an 
avenging  spirit,  and  lame  his  flight. 

The  nicely-made  pens  and  the  fine  white  paper 
still  lay  untouched  before  him;  he  leaned  back  smil- 
ing in  his  chair,  and  sadly  contemplated  his  environ- 
ment and  his  miserable  efforts;  he  scrawled  gro- 
tesque figures  on  the  paper,  he  chewed  the  pen  as  if 


1Y2  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

it  were  the  cud  of  reflection ;  still  the  holy  spirit  of 
Poesy  seems  farther  and  farther  from  coming  upon 
liini;  he  paces  up  and  down  the  chamber,  takes  a 
book  and  reads,  but  knows  not  what  he  has  read;  he 
copies  one  of  his  own  poems,  in  a  very  beautiful 
hand,  in  German  text,  and  framed  with  the  boldest 
strokes,  and  at  last  he  succeeds  in  addressing  an 
apostrophe  to  God,  to  Spring,  or  to  his  own  spirit 
in  the  form  of  an  ode.  He  had  pretended  a  sickness 
as  an  excuse  for  his  seclusion;  he  knew  not,  himself, 
how  little  of  poetic  license  there  was  in  this. 

Ephraim  called  on  Lessing;  he  showed  him  again 
several  of  his  poems  and  bewailed  his  unhappy  fate. 

"No  man  can  serve  two  masters,"  said  Ephraim; 
"  if  I  would  strike  Apollo's  lyre,  immediately  Mer- 
cury strikes  in  with  his  wand,  or  yard-stick,  on  which 
the  two  snakes  are  called  Debit  and  Credit^  and  hiss  a 
catch  between  them." 

"  It  is  a  very  fine  touch  in  Homer,"  said  Lessing, 
"that  Ulysses,  even  when  he  is  now  in  Ithaca,  w^ails 
and  laments  and  does  not  recognize  that  he  is  already 
at  home;  so  it  is  with  you,  you  worry  yourself  in  vain 
to  hang  upon  your  spirit  the  toga  or  chasuble  of  the 
ode,  and  make  it  swing  the  censer;  the  wooden  sword 
and  the  motley  jacket  of  Harlequin  would  fit  you 
much  more  naturally:  meanwhile  you  can  very  well 
exchange  the  wand  for  the  sword.  Let  us  take  the 
nearest  example :  my  friend  Mendelssohn  serves  in  the 
silk-establishment  of  the  widow  Bernhard,  and  is, 
withal,  an  able  philosopher;  I  write  here  orders  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  I  know  how  much  more 


THE  PRACTICAL  HEAD.  173 

insignificant  occupations  weary  one  than  the  most 
intense  study,  and  how  this  round  of  pretended  en- 
joyments and  diversions  upon  diversions  shatter  the 
blunted  soul.  O  my  time!  my  time!  my  all  that  I 
have!  and  that  I  should  sacrifice  it  so  utterly! " 

Lessing  looked  down  dejectedly,  and  suddenly  was 
silent. 

"Perhaps  it  lies  in  the  character  of  our  times," 
suggested  Ephraim,  "  that  no  one  can  be  quite  com- 
plete. Our  king  himself  is  both  soldier  and  philoso- 
pher, and  yet  the  two  properly  exclude  each  other; 
the  Prussian  Eagle  also  has  two  heads,  only  he  has 
skillfully  hid  the  one  behind  the  other  and  is  not  so 
open  as  the  Austrian." 

Lessing  started  at  this  bold  view  of  the  matter; 
he  seemed,  however,  unwilling  to  fall  in  mth  it,  for 
still  keeping  to  the  nearest  subject  he  continued:  "I 
told  you  before,  at  our  first  interview,  that  you  seem 
to  me  to  have  a  pre-eminent  talent  for  the  Ej^igram; 
that  is  to  say,  I  see  in  the  Sententious  Poem,  or,  ac- 
cording to  the  old  usage,  in  the  Epigram,  a  poem  in 
which  after  the  manner  of  the  inscription  proper, 
our  attention  and  curiosity  are  drawn  to  some  indi- 
vidual object,  and  kept  more  or  less  in  suspense, 
that  they  may  content  themselves  with  one  thing. 
I  differ  herein  from  Scaliger,  Boileau  and  Battaux. 
We  will  talk  over  that  subject  more  fully.  What  I 
would  say  to  you  now  is  that  you  must  recognize 
your  capacity  gratefully;  your  calling  in  life  will  not 
hinder,  nay,  it  will  much  rather  help  you.  Who 
would  be  all  day  long  making  epigrams  ?     Do  you 


174  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

see,  these  little  verses  are  more  pithy  than  all  your 
bucolic  poems: 

"TO   ROSALIE. 

*'  In  a  true  maiden,  Rosalie,  I  own, 
A  type  of  Paradise  is  shown; 
We  learn  loo  oft  its  fitness  to  our  cost, 
So  soon  this  Paradise  is  lost." 

"  Ah,  that  was  meant  for  a  long-vanished  flame,  the 
daughter  of  my  writing-master,"  said  Ephraim. 

"All  the  better,"  said  Lessing;  "no  incident  oc- 
curs just  in  the  way  that  the  poet  can  use  it.  All 
poesy  creates  out  of  truth  and  fantasy  a  third  thing, 
which  is  neither  of  the  two  and  yet  both.  I  like 
this  too  very  well,"  continued  Lessing  after  a  pause; 
"here  you  certainly  stand  on  your  own  ground: 

"THE  GOOD  PEOPLE. 

"This  race  God's  image  show,  from  whom  they  came, 
To  their  poor  brothers  merciful  and  mild  men, 
They  heal  the  sick,  no  fee  they  claim. 
What  is  this  singular  nation's  name  ? 
Jews  are  they?     Christians ?— They  are  Wild-men. 

"  Here  you  have  got  above  the  point  of  view  of  mere 
specialty:  Poetry  is  the  herald  of  Humanity;  I  will 
attempt  that  in  a  larger  work,  but  first  of  all  my 
soldiers  here  must  sit  to  me  for  a  picture,  which  I 
draw  fresh  from  the  life  and  the  times.  Perhaps  I 
may  then  find  a  higher,  a  heavenly  Jerusalem  where 
the  great  dissensions  of  the  world  are  liealed." 

Lessing's  eye  shone;  his  whole  countenance  was 
radiant  in  the  light;  it  seemed  as  if,  at  this  moment, 
in  the  lively  conversation,  as  he  for  the  first  time. 


THE  PRACTICAL  HEAD.  175 

in  words  that  to  him  only  were  intelligible,  touched 
upon  a  secret  silently  carried  in  the  depths  of  his 
heart;  he  now  saw  also  the  ground  and  the  forms 
wherein  he  was  to  cause  a  new  revelation  to  rise. 

Lessing  had  gazed  into  the  face  of  the  pure  spirit 
and  his  face  shone,  and  the  word  "  Nathan  "  means 
in  Hebrew,  "  He  has  given  it." 

Lessing  had  now  to  follow  a  different  discussion. 

Ephraim  mentioned  how  the  delineations  of  the 
life  and  manners  of  savage  nations,  particularly 
those  of  Otaheite,  always  made  a  powerful  impres- 
sion on  him; — virtue  and  moral  purity  without 
priests,  obedience  to  law  without  police, — here  was 
found  the  genuine  and  healthy  human  nature;  and 
that  he  often  felt  in  himself  an  almost  irrepressible 
impulse  to  wander  forth,  there  to  lead  among  the 
simpler  children  of  nature  a  peaceful  and  healthful 
life. 

Lessing  had  spoken  of  the  truth  regarding  the 
fictitious  natural  state  of  the  philosophers  and  the 
actual  condition  of  the  wild  men,  when  the  conversa- 
tion was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Veitel 
Ephraim. 

"Only  I  beg  you  not  to  spoil  my  nephew  any 
more,"  said  he  to  Lessing,  half  smiling,  in  the  course 
of  the  conversation;  "he  is  already  unpractical 
enough  and  only  half  a  scholar;  the  Christian  can 
be  a  scholar,  what  harm  can  it  do  him?  he,  to  be 
sure,  is  treated  well,  and  is  in  good  repute;  but 
a  Jew  who  has  no  money  and  earns  none,  is  a  cipher. 
The  only  practical  literate  who  has  yet  come  to  my 
knowledge  was  Voltaire." 


176  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  Lessing. 

"  How  so  ?  "  replied  Veitel;  "  he  got  money  enough 
together,  like  a  genuine  practical  man." 

They  talked  now  of  the  falling-out  of  Voltaire 
and  Frederick,  and  Veitel  remarked: 

"Every  man  has  his  fancies:  other  kings — one  has 
his  pleasure  in  handsome  women,  another  in  the 
chase,  or  he  plays  with  soldiers,  or  is  a  horse-jockey; 
a  third  makes  his  hobby-horse  of  religion,  of 
antiques  or  of  painted  canvas.  Our  king  cares  for 
none  of  those  things;  he  finds  his  enjoyment  in  hand- 
some dogs,  in  monkeys  and  in  jokers;  Voltaire  was 
his  court-fool;  if  one  should  barber  an  ape  and  put  a 
ring  on  him,  you  could  not  tell  one  from  the  other; 
you  know  the  story,  of  course,  how  at  a  review  he 
was  taken  for  an  ape.  1  tell  you,  he  was  a  fellow 
no  dogs  could  catch,  a  shrewd,  speculative  head;  he 
tried  to  cheat  Abraham  Hirsch  himself  with  Saxon 
bank  bills  and  false  jewels,  but  though  they  were 
ever  so  cunning,  the  Jew  is  seven  times  their  match; 
in  a  matter  of  bargain,  they  must  get  up  early  be- 
fore they  outwit  a  Jew." 

Ephraim  rumpled  a  paper  which  he  held  in  his 
hands,  and  bit  his  lips  till  they  almost  bled;  the  re- 
pulsive and  unblushing  self-complacency  with  which 
many  trades-people  set  themselves  off  against  un- 
practical men  and  phantasts,  as  they  call  all  men  of 
an  ideal  aspiration,  stood  out  sharply  before  his  view; 
he  despaired  of  a  spiritual  elevation  of  the  Jews,  as 
he  saw  their  whole  invention  and  industry  diverted 
only  to  gain. 


THE  PRACTICAL  HEAD.  177 

He  feared  for  the  favorable  sentiments  of  Lessing. 

"What  is  your  opinion  of  the  Jews?"  he  asked 
him  one  day,  when  Veitel  had  gone  to  the  General's. 

"  You  mean  to  ask,"  replied  Lessing,  "  what  I  think 
of  your  uncle.  The  pre-eminence  of  man  over  the 
beast  is  commonly  argued  from  the  fact  that  man 
alone  has  reason  and  a  thumb.  Your  respected 
uncle  uses  his  human  reason  in  very  shrewd  business 
speculations,  and  his  thumb  in  very  industrious 
counting  of  money.  Such  a  use  of  man's  pre-eminent 
endowments  you  find  in  thousands  of  forms  among 
the  most  divers  confessions  of  faith.  Characters  of 
this  kind  may,  however,  be  of  great  use  to  you  in 
your  poetry." 

"  But  my  uncle  exasperates  and  disgusts  me  every 
time  I  dispute  with  him." 

"  Then  leave  that  off,"  said  Lessing,  smiling.  "  It 
is  an  old  law  of  honor  in  the  duel,  that  one  shall 
fight  only  with  his  equals  in  birth:  apply  the  same 
rule  so  far  as  possible  in  the  intellectual  contest." 

Ephraim  smiled  contentedly ;  he  saw  in  this  admo- 
nition a  covert  praise  also,  and  with  the  characteristic 
turn  which  his  mind  took  from  every  outward  joy, 
he  said:  "That's  good.  You  are  right.  I  too,  as 
often  as  I  bring  in  a  knave  caught  in  verse,  will  ex- 
claim as  our  king  did  at  the  sight  of  the  captured 
Pandour:  '  And  is  it  with  such  rascals  that  I  must  take 
up  the  cudgels! '  That  helps  one;  and  our  king  has 
after  all  gained  greatness  and  renown  even  from  his 
contest  with  the  rascally  Pandours.  You  shall  have 
your  satisfaction  in  my  prisoners." 
12 


178  POE T  AND  MERCHANT. 

Ephmim  went  from  Lessing  contented  and  happy; 
he  had  been  brought  by  him  to  a  nearer  view  of  life 
and  liad  at  tlie  same  time  been  furnished  with  a 
magic  cap,  which  warded  off  all  blows  and  arrows 
of  custom. 

At  home  he  stitched  together  a  neat  blank  book, 
and  wrote  on  the  cover  with  a  raven's  quill  in  very 
eleo:ant  German  text  the  word  "Epigkams."  As  a 
motto  he  composed: 

TO  THE  FOOLS. 

The  canvas  is  ready,  the  ground  is  laid, 

I  hold  in  my  hand  the  brush ; 
Come,  fools,  and  be  painted — be  not  afraid, 

It  will  not  cost  you  a  rush. 


13.— THE  ITNTPKACTICAL  HEAD. 

WITH  a  radiant  face,  Ephraim  walked  up  and 
down  his  chamber;  he  thought  he  had  now 
found  the  Art  of  Poetry,  in  which  light  and  joy  were 
to  open  to  him;  at  that  moment  Veitel  entered  with 
a  look  full  of  gayety.  "Congratulate  me,  I  have 
concluded  the  contract,  and  thereby  contracted 
[cramped]  my  rival,  Itzig,  very  decidedly.  I  have 
just  come  from  the  king,"  said  Veitel. 

"From  the  king?" 

"Aye,  from  the  king,  who  is  like  the  wise  Solo- 
mon: there  is  absolutely  nothing  hidden  from  him; 
he  understands  all  trade,  all  handicraftsmen,  all  sci- 
ences. He  now  holds  possession  of  Saxony,  and  will 
have  a  great  deal  of  money  that  is  two-thirds  below 
par  stamped  with  the  Saxon  mark.  I  have  under- 
taken the  delivery;  to  children's  children  it  shall  be 
enjoined  by  testament  that  they  are  to  have  deal- 
ings only  with  distinguished  gentry ;  from  a  golden 
wJieel  there  falls  a  silver  nail^  says  the  proverb; 
there  is  always  some  profit  to  be  picked  up  in  such 
cases.  I  have  talked  with  the  king  for  almost  an 
hour  on  all  possible  matters." 


1 80  POE T  AND  MER CHANT. 

Ephraim  soon  forgot  that  he  had  selected  the  nat- 
ure of  his  uncle  for  a  study  of  character,  as  the 
"motive  for  a  picture"  as  the  artists  express  it;  he 
suffered  himself  to  be  excited,  and  lost  thereby  his 
point  of  view  and  his  temper. 

"  You  never  speak  of  this,"  said  he, — and  a  glow 
of  indignation  kindled  in  his  face — "  that  the  king  is 
to  remove  the  stigma  on  our  hearts,  which  disgraces 
him  more  than  us;  that  he  is  to  make  us  free,  if  rea- 
son and  humanity  are  not  to  be  a  mere  sound  of 
words  upon  his  lips.  O  !  how  gladly  would  I,  too, 
go  to  the  war  and  shed  my  blood,  and  if  I  should 
die,  I  would  cry  out  to  him:  See,  even  a  Jew  can  be 
brave  ! " 

"Youngster,  youngster,"  replied  Veitel,  "thy 
words  gilded  in  the  fire,  thou  art,  after  all,  in  a  gen- 
eral way,  clever  enough,  but  I  think  thou  hast  a 
crack  in  thy  noddle.  Thou  art,  to  be  sure,  so  expert 
with  the  pen  and  all  that — where  is  it  written,  that 
I  should  mix  myself  up  with  the  war  between  the 
king  and  Maria  Theresa  ?  Let  them  defend  them- 
selves, I  will  see  who  is  master.  I  tell  thee,  I  am 
glad  that  no  Jews  are  wanted  in  the  war;  fellows 
who  have  nothing  else  to  do  may  shoot  each  other 
dead  for  passer  le  temps.  I  have  some  better  busi- 
ness." Upon  this  he  jingled  the  money  which  he 
kept  about  him  for  any  occasion  of  bribery. 

"  And  the  disgrace  and  the  being  held  cheap  ? " 
cried  Ephraim. 

"  We  hold  a  man  cheap,"  replied  Veitel,  "  when  he 
has  no  money.     I  tell  thee  thousands  of  them  will 


THE  UNPRACTICAL  HEAD.  181 

put  up  with  anything,  if  they  can  only  get  money; 
that  is  the  main  thing;  all  else— I  wouldn't  give  a 
pinch  of  snuff  for  it."  And  he  took  one  out  of  his 
gold  box,  snuffed  it  contentedly,  and  offered  a  pinch 
to  his  nephew. 

Although  provoked  with  himself  for  being  drawn 
on  into  such  a  long  discussion  with  his  uncle, 
Ephraim  nevertheless  almost  involuntarily  contin- 
ued: "And  the  highest  good,  honor,  is  nothing  to 
you  ?  and  of  your  suffering  fellow-men  you  take  no 
thought?" 

Veitel  smiled  silently  awhile,  and  shook  his  head, 
and  then  replied:  "What,  honor!  Eat  of  thy 
honor  if  thou  hast  nothing,  or  go  into  thy  counting- 
room  and  get  it  exchanged;  thou  shouldst  be  glad 
that  our  Lord  God  has  not  brought  thee  and  thy 
kindred  to  that  pass;  the  rest  must  see  to  it  how 
they  get  themselves  out.  I  tell  thee,  if  our  king 
(God  preserve  his  life  to  a  hundred  years  !)  should 
say  to  me:  'Veitel,  I  will  make  thee  a  baron,  but 
thou  must  give  up  thy  business.'  I  tell  thee,  I'll 
snuff  up  with  this  snuff  poison  and  operment,*  if  I 
would  say  another  word  than  what  I  did  say :  '  The 
baron  I  accept  most  submissively,  your  Majesty, 
(why  ?  because,  as  baron,  I  can  deal  better  with  the 
barons,)  but  I  must  beg  your  Majesty  to  leave  me  to 
carry  on  my  trade  and  traffic,  as  I  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  do.' "  At  these  words  Veitel  took  off  his  hat 
and  made  a  low  bow,  as  if  he  really  stood  before  the 
king.     Laying  his  hand  on  his  nephew's  shoulder,  he 

*  Orpiment :  sulphide  of  arsenic 


1 S2  POE  T  AND  MERCHANT. 

then  proceeded:  "I  see  already  how  thou  wilt  have 
come  to  have  quite  other  ideas,  when  thou  standest 
one  day  in  my  shoes;  I've  heard  a  good  many  birds 
vt^histle  this  tune  in  my  day — na  !  na  !  we  know  their 
story:  I  w^ould  rather  starve  and  gnaw  off  my  fingers 
than  follow  anything  else  but  truth  and  honor. 
What  is  truth,  at  bottom,  and  what,  honor? — 
money  !  Look  thou  !  I  can  give  thee  the  best  ex- 
ample in  that  tall  Emanuel  whom  I  have  with  me, 
and  who  writes  up  there  in  the  little  corner  room. 
When  we  were  yet  young,  say  about  sixteen  or  eight- 
een years  old,  my  father  and  his  were  still  living  in 
Prenzlau;  his  father  was  the  richest  man  in  the 
wdiole  place.  How  often  was  I  made  glad  when  his 
mother  gave  me  a  good  dishful  of  soup.  Now  just 
look  at  it !  then  he  was  rich  and  I  poor,  and  now  he 
is  glad  to  have  found  a  situation  under  me;  but  I 
never  let  him  want  for  anything,  so  long  as  I  have 
an  eye  open;  he  fares  with  me  as  a  child  in  the 
house,  and  has  already  served  faithfully  and  hon- 
estly for  fifteen  years.  I  can  say  of  him,  as  it  is 
written  in  the  Thorah:  'lie  is  faithful  in  all  mine 
house '  (Numbers,  XII.,  7.) — But  to  come  back  to  the 
point  for  which  I  introduced  the  story.  Emanuel 
was  rich  and  learned  much  of  the  pastor  in  the 
])lace,  both  German  and  French;  he  reads  French 
like  water  [fluently],  he  knows  Voltaire  and  Homer 
(1  know  the  names  of  all  the  hocus-pocus-makers  as 
well  as  I  know  my  own  sins),  he  has  them  all  by 
heart;  the  wliole  country  round  rang  with  the  praise 
of   Emanuel's   cleverness,  and   how  beautifully  he 


THE  UNPRACTICAL  HEAIX  183 

could  play  on  the  violin,  what  a  favoriie-4rd  was 
with  all  the  gentry  and  ate  and  drank  with  them 
what  God  has  forbidden.  This  much  must  be  said 
for  him,  he  never  was  proud;  he  would  often  enter- 
tain himself  for  hours  with  a  parcel  of  ragged  chil- 
dren; but  his  father  died  too  early,  and  he  did  not 
understand  economy,  and  went  oft"  with  his  money  to 
Berlin.  There  he  once  handed  in  a  petition  to  King 
Frederick  William,  that  he  would  remove  the  ban 
which  had  been  pronounced  against  the  Jews,  that  it 
was  unkingly  to  oblige  the  Jews  to  buy  wild  boars 
from  the  chase,  and  many  other  points,  and  finally, 
that  the  youth  should  be  educated  and  enlightened. 
But  there  he  wakes  up  the  right  passenger,  one  that 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  all  that  nonsense  about 
enlightenment,  and  likes  best  to  see  every  man  stick 
to  his  last;  and  once  when  Emanuel  had  an  audience 
with  him,  he  sent  him  off  with  a  flea  in  his  ear.  It 
is  not  generally  safe  to  speak  about  that,  and  it  will 
not  do  to  remind  him  of  it,  unless  one  wants  to  put 
him  into  a  rage,  but  once  in  a  confidential  moment 
he  told  me  how  he  had  been  treated.  So  there  he 
stands  before  the  king,  jabbering  about  Jews  and 
what  all — about  learning  trades,  school  instruc- 
tion, virtues  of  citizens,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
schemes  and  fiddle-faddle  and  2^^^^'''  '^^^^^  ^*"^^- 
When  he  had  got  through,  the  king  walks  up  and 
down  the  room,  and  brandishes  his  Spanish  cane, 
which  has  an  enameled  head  eighteen  carats  fine  (I 
had  it  in  my  hand  only  four  weeks  ago).  'Pity  ! 
It's  a  pity ! '  says  the  king,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 


1 84  POE T  AND  MER CHA NT. 

vacancy,  *but  it  will  not  do,  it  cannot  be.'  My 
Emanuel  was  quite  delighted  that  the  king  was  so 
gracious,  and  said:  *  Thus  and  so  one  might  manage 
it,  and  your  Majesty  will  be  adored  as  a  Messiah,  as 
a  father  by  his  children.'  Then  the  king  turns 
round  and  looks  upon  him,  with  a  pair  of  eyes, 
Emanuel  himself  told  me,  and  if  one  had  gashed  all 
his  veins,  there  wouldn't  have  come  a  drop  of  blood. 
*What  does  he*  say?'  cries  the  king.  'He  will 
dictate  to  me  what  I  shall  do  ?  What  then  does  he 
understand  about  my  notions  ?  It  is  a  pity,  I've 
been  thinking  to  myself  that  he  is  a  Jew.  He  is 
just  the  right  height  for  my  garde  du  corps;  there, 
too,  they  would  drive  his  good-for-nothing  reasoning 
out  of  his  head,  but  there  is  no  making  anything  out 
of  you  Jews;  you  are  damned  here  and  hereafter. 
But  let  me  say  this  to  him,  not  to  trouble  himself 
about  things  that  do  not  concern  him;  let  him  stick 
to  his  business,  as  he  has  liberty  to,  and  as  becomes 
him,  or — another  word,  and  I'll  have  him  paid  on  ac- 
count five-and-twenty  on  the  ^/'t — "^'^^^  *^^*  ^® 
shakes  his  Spanish  cane  at  him  so  significantly  that 
my  Emanuel's  back  already  burns.  Do  you  think 
he  was  glad  when  he  had  got  the  palace  behind 
him?  But  Emanuel  is  nothing  if  not  a  Hotspur. 
What  does  he  do  but  run  round  through  the  wiiole 
town  among  all  the  faith  preaching  and  threshing 
away  how  all  the  Jews  were  good-for-nothings  be- 
cause they  didn't  emigrate  to  America.  Isn't  that 
nonsensical  ?  " 

*  Addressing  his  inferior  in  the  third  person. 
[Musical  abbreviation  ol  fortissimo. 


THE  UNPRACTICAL  HEAD.  185 

"  I  think,  too,  that  one  cannot  expect  of  every  one 
that  he  shall  forsake  his  fatherland." 

"  Fatherland — don't  take  it  ill  of  me — that  again 
IS  so,  so — a  studied  word.  What  have  I  to  do  with 
fatherland  ?  But  what  more  do  I  want  ?  Can  one 
do  more  in  America  than  eat  and  drink  and  sleep  ?  " 

"How  did  it  fare  with  Emanuel  after  that?" 
asked  Ephraira,  diverting  the  discourse. 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  on  with  my  story.  In  a  night  he 
packed  up  everything,  and  was  up  and  off.  What 
were  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars  to  him?  Some 
good  liquid  debts,  that  he  hasn't  time  to  collect,  he 
sells  for  a  bagatelle;  with  one  of  your  ne'er-do-wells 
he  quits  Berlin  to  make  a  straight  track  to  America, 
among  the  wild  men,  where  one  carries  his  life  in 
his  hand;  but  now,  no  begging  or  praying  is  of  any 
avail :  the  free-thinking  fellow  that  had  tacked  him- 
self on  to  him — a  plague  on  it  that  I  have  forgotten 
his  name!  this  comes  of  age  and  care;  na,  what  mat- 
ters it  ? — that  free-thinking  chap  continues  to  talk 
it  all  out  of  him,  and  they  go  straight  off  to  Am- 
sterdam. Here  they  stay  two  or  three  days.  One 
morning  my  Emanuel  wakes  up,  looks  round  for  his 
chum — do  you  see,  now  the  name  comes  to  me:  he 
was  called  Mardon— thinks  to  himself:  Well,  he's 
nothing  to  do,  so  he's  sleeping  it  out  there;  but  he 
finds  the  nest  empty;  still  my  Emanuel  suspects  no 
harm,  and  rings;  up  comes  butler:  Where  is  Mr.  Mar- 
don ?  He  went  down  to  the  wharf  to  see  the  ships 
go  off;  still  my  Emanuel  never  suspects  anything. 
It  is  to  me  incomprehensible  to  this  hour,  how  a 


186  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

man  can  be  so  stupid,  and  that,  too,  on  a  journey. 
At  such  times  a  man  will  certainly  every  morning 
look  out  for  his  money.  But  so  it  had  to  be  with 
him;  it  could  not  possibly  be  otherwise.  Dinner 
passed,  and  still  no  Mardon.  My  Emanuel  goes 
singing  and  trilling  up  to  his  chamber  to  get  some 
pocket-money.  He  opened  his  box,  where  he  knows 
he  has  a  thousand  pure  Holland  ducats  of  the  good 
old  sort  stowed  away;  it  is  a  miracle  that  he  didn't 
fall  down  dead  in  a.  fit;  he  opens  it  wide,  searches 
in  front  and  behind;  the  sweat  of  agony  stands 
upon  his  forehead;  he  knows  the  very  spot  where 
he  laid  it,  but  there  is  no  trace  of  it  anywhere;  he 
pulls  out  all  the  drawers,  throws  them  on  the  floor — 
nothing  anywhere.  Now  at  last  a  light  suddenly 
flashes  upon  him,  but  instead  of  running  instantly 
to  the  police,  he  tears  his  hair,  throws  himself  on 
the  ground  and  screams  so  that  even  the  very  child 
unborn  might  have  pitied  him.  Everybody  in  the 
house  comes  running  in;  he  tells  his  misfortune, 
and  keeps  on  tearing  bushel  after  bushel  of  hair  out 
of  his  head.  The  people  who  hear  him  going  on  so, 
part  of  them  believe  it  and  part  not.  To  make  a 
short  story  of  it,  with  close  pinching  a  man  of  May- 
ence,  who  had  known  the  family,  releases  Emanuel 
and  takes  him  into  his  business.  But  see  what  an 
honest .  simpleton  of  a  Schlemihl  is?  His  wages 
which  he  has  saved  up  for  a  year  and  a  half,  he 
takes  and  pays  with  them  the  scot  for  himself  and 
Mardon;  there's  a  story  for  an  inmate  of  the  luna- 
tic asylum!     After  that  he  left  Amsterdam  and  be- 


THE  UNPRACTICAL  HEAD.  18*7 

gan  cruising  round  through  tlic  workl.  So  he  is 
now  unsettled  and  flighty,  and,  if  one  considers 
rightly,  for  what  cause  ? — because  he  didn't  sweep 
before  his  own  door,  but  went  to  meddling  with 
things  that  didn't  concern  him.  What  have  I  to 
do  with  suffering  humanity  ?  If  it  is  ailing,  let  it 
put  on  a  plaster.  Had  he  done  like  one  of  us,  had 
he  let  seven  be  an  even  number,  and  done  a  good 
business,  he  would  still  have  his  golden  ducats,  and 
three  times  over,  would  have  wife  and  children,  and 
not  need  to  let  himself  be  hustled  about  among 
strange  people;  he  would  now  be  one  of  the  first  in 
the  congregation,  not  a  bit  less  than  one  of  us.  Xow 
take  heed,  thou  hast  here  an  example.  I  advise 
thee,  as  thy  uncle,  see  that  thou  makest  a  good  in- 
vestment of  thy  money  and  let  other  things  take 
care  of  themselves." 

Ephraim  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  ground  when  his 
uncle  had  ended,  and  w^ithout  raising  them  again  he 
asked:  "How  then  did  Emanuel  come  to  your 
house  ?  " 

"Four  weeks  from  to-morrow  we  have  Purira 
[the  feast  of  Haman] ;  it  will  then  be  sixteen  years, 
just  as  many  as  my  little  Zerlina  has  lived  her  irre- 
proachable life.  It  is  then  Purim;  in  the  morning 
I  go  home  from  the  school  [synagogue]  troubled  in 
mind  how  I  shall  get  another  book-keeper — I  know, 
as  certainly  as  I  know  that  I  shall  get  into  Gan  Eden 
[Paradise]  that  my  old  book-keeper  has  embezzled  a 
ten-dollar-bill — I  was  walking  along,  lost  in  thought; 
it  was  a  grim  cold  morning,  enough  to  freeze  stone 


188  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

and  bone,  when  I  saw  a  large  man.  He  had  on  a 
coat  that  eight  years  before  had  been  new  on  an- 
other body;  ten  cats  couldn't  now  have  found  a 
mouse  in  it;  he  had  a  hat  on  his  head — I  wouldn't 
pick  it  up  in  the  street;  his  hands  it  was  impossible  to 
see,  he  had  drawn  them  up  in  the  sleeves  of  his  coat 
because  he  had  no  gloves.  I  looked  at  my  man, 
who  for  all  that  marched  along  as  proud  and  bolt- 
upright  as  a  grenadier;  his  face  was  familiar  to  me. 
I  thought  I  ought  to  know  him,  as  when  one  says: 
I  ought  to  know  you,  but  I  can't  exactly  locate  you ; 
we  pass  each  other,  I  turned  round  again,  he  did  the 
same.  'Emanuel!'  says  I — 'Veitel!'  says  he,  and 
is  about  to  fall  on  my  neck;  think  now — in  the  open 
street,  with  a  man  in  such  a  rig — so  I  kept  him  back 
and  said :  '  Emanuel,  if  thou  wilt  come  to  me  in 
half  an  hour, — I  live  at  such  and  such  a  place.'  A 
little  while  after  I  hear  a  noise  out  in  the  kitchen; 
my  wife  was  at  that  moment  in  the  pangs  of  child- 
birth. I  go  out  to  command  silence;  there  I  find 
Emanuel  in  trouble  with  my  cook,  who  will  vloI  par- 
tout  let  him  in  to  me,  and  will  give  him  his  good 
half  groschen,  which  every  respectable  beggar  gets 
in  my  house;  I  have  strictly  forbidden  her  to  let 
any  beggar  in  to  me.  Then  they  come  and  cry 
one's  ears  full,  and  every  one  of  them  claims  to  be 
your  relation:  thank  you  for  nothing  for  your  rela- 
tionship! If  one  has  a  couple  of  groschen,  all  the 
world  will  be  one's  relation;  so  I  have  always  one 
principle:  All  comes  from  God,  He  ^yills  that  one 
shall  be  rich  and  another  poor.     I  dare  not  alter  it! 


THE  UNPRACTICAL  HEAD.  180 

— ^It  were  tedious,  if  I  undertook  to  tell  you  all  the 
tests  I  tried  with  Emanuel;  canst  imagine  for  thy- 
self that  I  would  not  entrust  my  books  to  every  fel- 
low that  comes  along;  but  Emanuel  is  thoroughly  hon- 
est, and  so  has  been  now  sixteen  years  with  me,  has 
his  clothes  and  his  board,  sits  at  table  with  me;  I 
tell  thee  I  never  taste  a  bit  but  that  he  has  part  of 
it;  at  New  Years  he  has  a  handsome  douceur;  he 
lives  a  pious  and  retired  life,  and  often  plays  the  fid- 
dle half  the  night  in  his  chamber  without  any  light; 
within  about  two  years  he  has  gone  out  to  walk 
every  Thursday  after  supper;  I  don't  look  after  him, 
he  can  do  what  he  pleases;  but  I  believe  he  has  got 
among  the  free-masons;  well,  one  thing  is  pretty 
certain,  they  can't  swindle  him  out  of  much  money. 
Ah,  yes,  one  thing  I  had  almost  forgotten:  why, 
dost  thou  think,  Emanuel  has  come  back  again  to 
Berlin  ?  To  get  in  his  outstanding  debts  ?  God 
help  us!  Under  the  gray  hairs  of  the  simpleton  the 
same  whimseys  lurk  as  under  the  black  hair  of  the 
young  one;  he  fancies  our  present  master  has  noth- 
ing else  to  do  than  first  of  all  to  set  the  Jews  free ; 
but  he  has  soon  discovered  how  the  thing  is.  How 
a  man  can  ever  bother  himself  about  such  things! 
And  his  whole  equipage  which  he  brought  to  my 
house  in  a  red  handkerchief  was  two  old  books,  a 
black  shirt  and  an  old  fiddle;  including  Avhat  he  had 
on  his  body.  I  wouldn't  buy  the  whole  at  five  dol- 
lars: and  still  he  worries  himself  about  such  things! 
He  has  always  talked  of  his  longing  so  to  tread  once 
more  native  soil;  well,  that  good  fortune  has  come 


190  POE T  AND  MERCHANT. 

to  bim,  and  how  ?  in  a  very  genuine  manner,  for  his 
boots  have  had  no  soles  to  them,  and  so  he  has  liter- 
ally run  on  native  soil. 

"Just  consider  now  how  things  go  in  the  world; 
Emanuel  is  so  clever,  well,  and  what  is  he  ?  A  rag- 
amuffin! As  for  me,  I  never  learned  anything  in  all 
my  life;  when  I  was  only  eleven  years  old  my  father 
sent  me  out  to  trade  with  old  iron,  horse-hair,  and 
a  couple  of  pocket-handkerchiefs;  where  could  I 
find  time  to  learn,  except  to  reckon  a  hit?  By 
dint  of  hard  labor  Emanuel  has  taught  me  to 
write  my  name  in  German — well?  and  now  they  call 
me  and  Itzig  the  Jew-princes  of  Berlin;  I  have  it  as 
good  as  in  my  pocket  that  I  get  a  patent  of  excep- 
tion from  the  king,  whereby  my  whole  family  is  ex- 
empted from  all  the  burdens  of  the  Jews:  I  am 
looked  up  to,  am  a  cultivated  man,  for  I  can  converse 
with  the  greatest  dignitaries,  and  Emanuel  no  man 
ever  looks  at.  There,  follow  me,  and  don't  give 
your  understanding  away  for  shruff;*  then  all  will 
go  well  with  thee  too." 

It  was  with  a  cunningly  exalted  and  sweetly 
smirking  look  that  Veitel  ended  his  instruction  in 
worldly  wisdom.  During  his  whole  discourse  ho 
had  strutted  proudly  up  and  down  the  chamber, 
stretching  his  paunch  far  forward,  now  swinging 
his  arms  Avith  great  pliability  backward  and  for- 
ward like  the  ends  of  a  balance  pole,  now  standing 
still  and  rocking  himself  to  and  fro  on  his  legs, 
planted  widely  asunder;  thus  he  now  stood  before 

*  Broken  plate,  which  is  sold  at  a  reduced  price  for  melting  up. 


THE  UNPRACTICAL  HEAD.  191 

his  nephew,  playing  with  his  watch-seal,  with  a  chal- 
lenging look. 

"  Now  I  can  explain  to  myself,"  said  Ephraim  at 
last,  "  why  Emanuel  always  smiles  so  singularly  and 
says  so  little:  it  is  a  pity  that  you  are  going  off 
again  so  soon;  I  should  like  to  become  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  man." 

"  Dost  thou  know  what  I  think  ?  "  said  Yeitel,  in  a 
triumphant  tone ;  "  thou  canst  become  acquainted  with 
him  inwai'dly  and  outwardly ;  he  must  certainly  regard 
it  as  an  honor  if  thou,  my  sister's  son,  shalt  favor  him 
with  thy  company:  don't  think  long  about  it,  strike 
the  bargain,"  he  cried,  stretching  out  his  hand; 
"  come  along  with  me;  besides,  Emanuel  is  no  longer 
quite  well  posted;  I  am  just  establishing  a  gold  and 
silver  lace  factory.  I  will  make  over  to  thee  a  part 
of  the  business  and  the  treasurership;  thou  wilt  get 
a  thousand  dollars  salary  and  canst  invest  thy  money 
at  good  interest  in  my  business.  Besides,  it  were  a 
good  thing  for  thee  to  separate  from  thy  brothers. 
Chajem  has  already  made  a  blot  on  the  relationship, 
and  I  fear  Nathan  will  make  another  too.  How  will 
my  children  rejoice  with  thee,  and  particularly  my 
Zerlina!  She  reads  all  thy  letters  seven  times.  I 
tell  thee,  my  Zerlina  is  a  golden  child.  I  will  not 
praise  her,  she  is  my  own  child,  but  she  is  faultlessly 
beautiful,  fine-natured  and  intelligent,  and  such  a 
housekeeper!  She  turns  a  penny  over  ten  times  be- 
fore she  parts  with  it.  She  can  sing  as  if  she  had 
nothing  but  organ-pipes  in  her  throat;  she  has  cost 
me  a  nice  penny,  as  true  as  I  shall  live  to  be  a  hun- 


192  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

dred  years  old,  and  ray  Lord  God  shall  let  me  live 
to  take  pleasure  in  you  both — three  dollars  currency 
per  month;  but  for  my  Zerlina  no  money  is  too 
much;  thou,  too,  wilt  take  pleasure  in  her;  thy  Vio- 
let was  a  nice  girl,  but  as  tender  and  affected  as  an 
^^^  without  a  shell;  my  Zerlina  is  five  per  cent, 
handsomer  and  stronger;  na!  who  knows — it  has 
long  been  a  sore  thought  to  me  that  my  good  money 
that  I  have  had  such  hard  work  to  scrape  together 
should  be  so  alienated;  she  could  make  matches 
enough,  but  where  is  there  a  family  that  can  come 
near  ours  in  wealth  and  respectability  ?  Well,  now, 
all  can  be  brought  about  beautifully.  I  feel  certain 
that  thou  and  I  are  not  to  part  from  this  time  forth. 
Thou  wilt  go  with  me  then  ?  " 

Ephraim  gave  no  decided  ansAver  in  the  negative, 
and  w^hen  he  was  alone  in  his  chamber  he  wrote  the 
following  verses: 

THE  LAST  WILL  OF  HARPAX. 

I  die,  my  son!   then  hear,  now,  my  last  will; 

This  world's  best  good — more  sweet  than  honey — 

Despite  the  prating  moralist — is  money; 

Be  all  thy  care  thy  coffer,  then,  to  fill ! 

Eat  not  too  much;  thy  father  was  a  faster; 

And  in  that  way  much  gold  collected; 

The  more  I  had  the  more  was  I  respected. 

Money  makes  wise;  money  is  all  men's  master; 

Instead  of  books,  I  heaped  up  ducats  round  me; 

And  of  the  Muses  many  a  son 

Set  me  up  high  upon  his  Helicon, 

And  as  his  erudite  Maiccnas  crowned  me. 

Yield  not  to  womanish  commiseration: 

He  whom  God  loves  his  grace  receives ; 


THE  UNPRACTICAL  HEAD.  193 

He  hates  all  those  to  whom  he  nothing  gives  ; 

Who  gives  the  poor  provokes  His  indignation. 

I  never  shall  repent  what  I  have  willed  thee, 

If  thou  know'st  how  to  make  it  more, 

My  spirit  rest  on  thee — a  double  store ! 

And  interest  thousandfold,  son!  may  it  yield  thee! 

13 


14._0N  NEW  PATHS. 

IT  was  late  at  night;  Ephraim  still  sat  pondering 
and  ruminating  in  his  chamber,  when  suddenly 
he  heard  music,  which  rang  out  from  the  little  attic 
chamber  overhead,  where  Emanuel  lodged.  Ephraim 
opened  the  window  and  looked  out ;  only  at  in- 
tervals between  rent  clouds  the  moonlight  gleamed, 
down  on  the  snow-clad  earth;  here  and  there  drops 
were  heard  falling  in  regular  pauses  from  the  roof, 
or  a  little  avalanche  of  melted  snow  rolled  down. 
No  stir  of  human  life  was  audible,  only  above  him 
sorrow  kept  its  vigils  and  poured  itself  out  in  har- 
monious tones.  These  tones  of  a  violin  built  up  a 
Jacob's  ladder  on  which  tearful  angels  went  up  and 
down;  then  it  sounded  again  like  the  wrestling  and 
groaning  of  an  imprisoned  soul;  silently  muttering, 
cowering  on  the  gi-ound,  it  languished  out  its  life  in 
monotonous  sorrow;  forever  and  ever  the  same  sound 
repeated  itself,  until  at  last,  growing  ever  fainter  and 
fainter  it  wholly  died  away;  but  suddenly  it  gathered 
up  all  its  powers  again,  all  the  tones  woke  up,  and 
unitedly  renewed  their  conflict,  helping,  supporting 


ON  NE  W  PA  TIIS.  195 

each  other,  flying  to  each  other's  aid;  wailing  it 
wrung  its  hands  over  its  head,  it  clambered  down 
along  the  grim  prison  walls,  it  clung  to  them  and  raged 
and  raved,  to  tear  through  the  walls  and  wrestle  out 
into  light  and  air;  but  its  strength  was  exhausted, 
and  now  the  battle  seemed  to  burst  out  only  in  single 
storms  of  fitful  fury,  till  at  last  in  a  heart-piercing 
cry  it  fell  back  again  upon  the  ground;  it  seemed 
utterly  dead,  but  the  old  monotonous  anguish  woke 
again,  and  writhed  out  and  tangled  itself  up,  like  a 
coil  of  snakes;  again  as  from  a  volcano  the  embers 
of  a  lusty  exultation  flew  up  therefrom,  life's-woe 
and  death's-rapture,  all  floated  together  chaotically, 
and  a  universal  tempest  of  tones  was  finally  suc- 
ceeded by  silence  and  death. 

Ephraim  saw  no  more  the  world  around  him,  his 
eyes  swam  in  tears;  his  spirit  had  gazed  into  the 
deepest  abyss  of  a  soul,  where  unsightly  monsters 
swim  over  coral  reefs,  crystal  temples  and  glistening 
sea-flowers.  The  last  tones  had  long  since  died 
away,  as  Ephraim  still  stood  there  spell-bound;  at 
last  he  roused  himself,  ascended  the  shaky  stairs  and 
stood  before  Emanuel's  door;  it  was  open,  there  was 
no  light  in  the  chamber;  he  almost  dreaded  to  enter 
with  his  light,  when  Emanuel  hastily  raised  himself 
up  in  his  bed:  "Who's  there?"  he  asked,  harshly. 

"A  good  friend,"  Ephraim  answered,  mechanic- 
ally, and  then  added:  "One,  indeed,  whose  highest 
happiness  it  would  be,  if  he  could  be  really  a  good 
friend  to  you." 

"  Good  youth,  it  is  bed-time  and  thou  wilt  catch 


196  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

cold  staying  with  me,"  answered  Emanuel,  with  a 
singular  smile  and  raised  his  hand,  meanwhile,  as  if 
repel  lingly.  Ephraim  supposed  he  meant  to  offer  it 
to  him  and  reached  out  his  own  to  take  it. — If  in 
every-day  greetings  or  in  leave-taking,  it  is  a  pain- 
ful sensation  to  have  to  draw  back  the  hand  stretched 
out  in  confidence  and  left  untouched,  this  uncom- 
fortable feeling  is  greatly  aggravated  in  a  position 
of  excitement. 

"Give  me  your  hand,"  said  Ephraim,  therefore, 
trembling. 

"  My  hand  is  dry  and  bony,  it  no  longer  feels  soft, 
but  I  offer  it  to  thee,  and  will,  so  far  as  I  can,  be 
thy  friend.  Behold,  in  a  warm  pressure  of  tlie  hand 
lies  the  symbol  of  friendship ;  it  is  the  sign  of  spirit- 
ual and  practical  union,  and  not  without  significance 
is  it,  in  secret  societies,  made  the  token  of  brother- 
hood." So  spake  Emanuel  and  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  Ephraim,  who  fervently  held  it  fast  and 
threw  all  love  into  his  expression  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  face  of  Emanuel,  whose  features  had  been 
hardened  and,  as  it  were,  hammered  by  storms. 

"  What  spyest  thou  in  my  face  ? "  said  Emanuel. 
Ephraim  pressed  his  hand  to  his  heart  and  wept. 

"Art  thou  in  love?"  said  Emanuel;  "then  marry, 
and  thou  wilt  be  released  from  love;  if  thou  art 
not  in  love,  thou  shouldst  certainly  marry." 

"I  will  not  jjut  my  neck  into  the  yoke  of  a  com- 
monplace marriage,  but  neither  is  it  love  I  seek  any 
longer;  it  is  false,  nothing  but  a  fleeting  self-delu- 
sion j  love,  as  I  cherish  it  in  my  bosom,  as  it  stretches 


ON  NE  W  PA  TITS.  1 9  7 

out  its  thousand-armed,  yearning  desires  into  the 
distance  to  clasp  a  loving  heart,  as  it  makes  me  long 
to  wind  my  way  through  all  the  veins  and  pores  of  a 
beloved  soul,  that  I  might  fill  it  wholly  and  forever 
— ah  !  it  is  a  phantom  which  I  chase  after  ;  this  love 
I  have  buried  in  still  solitude  in  the  grave-yard  of 
my  heart.  It  is  only  friendship  that  I  any  longer 
hope  from  life;  by  that  will  I  grow  strong;  that  is 
the  sun  by  whose  rays  the  bowed  and  bruised  flower 
of  my  life  shall  lift  itself  up  again;  do  not,  then, 
move  away  from  me,  I  know  all  about  you,  be  my 
father,  be  my  friend."  Ephraim  laid  his  hot  forehead 
upon  the  hand  of  Emanuel,  which  he  still  held  fast. 
"  Young  friend,"  said  Emanuel,  "  there  is  still  a 
violent  ferment  going  on  within  thee,  thy  speech  is 
feverish.  I  like  not  to  put  on  the  grandfatherly 
look,  which  always  nods  to  youth  self -complacently 
and  seems  to  say:  Wait  awhile,  after  a  few  years 
thou  wilt  smile  at  thy  present  storms;  the  storm  is 
now  upon  thee,  and  lashes  with  mighty  waves  the 
ribs  of  thy  bark,  but  survey  thy  past  life,  and  learn 
to  perceive  that  all  excitement  is  only  transitory. 
Thou  hast  love,  that  I  perceive,  but  thou  hast  not 
found  that  love  in  return  which  thy  pride,  thy  over- 
weening passion  dreamed.  Love  is  lowliness;  thou 
wilt  find  the  genuine  reciprocal  love,  and  then  with 
bliss  and  sadness  wilt  cry  out:  That  first  love  was 
not  the  true.  God  keep  thee  from  having  to  repeat 
this  experience.  But  demand  not  of  friendship  what 
only  love  can  offer  thee,  nor  prepare  for  thyself  dili- 
gently later  disenchantments." 


198  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"Gladly  would  I  stay  Tsdth  thee  forever,"  said 
Ephraim;  "do  not  you  also  advise  rae  to  accept  the 
position  of  treasurer  in  my  uncle's  silver  manufac- 
tory? Then,  too,  I  shall  go  away  from  here,  where 
every  stone  says  to  me:  Once  tliy  look  fell  on  me 
when  thou  wast  happier  than  now;  ah!  I  know  not 
what  I  want,  but  1  would  willingly  die,  to  be  rid  of 
all  at  once." 

"  It  is  well  that  the  stars  overhead  there  keep  on 
in  their  bright  path,  and  we  petty  worms  crawl  round 
on  this  little  ball  of  earth;  could  we  clutch  the  stars 
with  our  hands,  we  should  long  since  have  plucked 
them  down  and  bedaubed  them  in  this  commonplace 
worldliness;  that  higher  thing  which  thou  wilt  and 
shouldst  aspire  to,  let  it  shine,  like  the  stars  above 
thee;  confound  it  not  with  the  noisome  vapor  that 
broods  over  the  lower  stratum  of  the  atmosphere, 
and.  if  thy  sight  is  veiled  in  darkness,  then  look  up 
to  the  stars,  let  a  ray  from  their  eternal  light  fall 
into  thy  heart,  and  abide  in  thy  lot,  till  thou  shalt 
rise  into  the  primal  source  of  the  light  eternal. — 
Good  night!" — So  spake  Emanuel  and  withdrew  his 
hand  from  Ephraim's  and  buried  his  head  in  the 
pillows. 

Ephraim,  with  deep  emotion,  left  the  chamber;  for 
a  long  time  he  could  not  sleep,  and  in  dream  he 
journeyed  from  star  to  star,  but  everywhere  his 
uncle  followed  him,  showing  him  how  some  of  the 
stars  had  dark  spots;  when  he  awoke  he  felt  his 
cheeks  burn. 

Emanuel  presented  during  the  next  day  an  almost 


ON  NE  W  PA  TITS.  1 9  9 

wholly  changed  appearance;  he  entered  into  no  con- 
versation except  on  matters  of  business,  and  then  he 
spoke  with  such  zeal  and  such  insight  that  no  one 
would  have  supposed  him  susceptible  to  any  higher 
interest.  Ephraim  could  not  yet  explain  to  himself 
this  double  state;  he  began  to  mistrust  his  judgment 
more  and  more  in  regard  to  the  individuality  of 
others,  and  strangely  enough,  his  love  for  Philip- 
pina  hereby  started  up  again  within  him;  he  again 
approached  her,  and  sought  to  rectify  his  former 
hasty  judgment.  Ephraim  was  highly  delighted  to 
have  found  so  valid  a  ground  for  reviving  his  old 
love.  He  loved  Philippina  more  than  he  chose  to 
confess  to  himself.  How  heroic  he  appeared  in  his 
own  eyes  w^hen  after  his  first  return  he  often  omitted 
to  visit  Philippina  for  two  or  three  days  together; 
how  he  counted  the  days,  how  his  heart  beat,  when 
he  then  entered  her  house;  how  many  sophistical 
will-o'-the-wisps  he  followed  on  their  zigzag  paths, 
only  that  they  always  led  him  to  her  house  at 
last. — All  this  might  have  enlightened  Ephraim  long 
ago  upon  the  true  condition  of  his  inner  man;  he 
contented  himself  with  the  silent  consciousness  that 
it  was  not  yet  too  late.  Repentance  almost  always 
follows  a  breach  with  a  loved  one;  one  reproaches 
himself  for  having  let  a  mere  trifle  part  him  from 
the  dearest  object,  one  longs  to  return,  and  promises  to 
himself  charity  and  tender  tolerance,  but  a  false  re- 
lation which  has  rooted  itself  for  months  in  the  dis- 
position can  scarcely  be  extirpated,  and  without  our 
being  aware  of  it,  it  puts  forth  new  germs  from  the 
old  root. 


200  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

We  often  recognize  the  soonest  our  mutual  har- 
mony by  the  harmony  of  our  judgments  upon  third 
persons,  and  however  easily,  often,  personal  gossip 
degenerates  in  censoriousness,  nevertheless,  its  origi- 
nal ground  is  a  necessary  and  mutual  one. — Ephraim 
spoke  in  enthusiastic  terms  with  Philippina  about 
Emanuel. 

"  If  I  might  venture  to  give  him  a  nickname,"  said 
Philippina,  "  I  would  call  him  the  Darkener.  When 
he  comes  into  the  room  the  lights  burn  dimmer, 
when  he  looks  at  a  thing,  I  feel  as  if  it  must  turn 
gray.  I  can  imagine  that  he  always  weeps  on  his 
violin.  I  have  never  seen  him  laugh;  he  is  like  dry 
biscuit,  it  is  all  good  and  fine,  but  one  cannot  en- 
joy it." 

Ephraim  made  no  reply,  but  laughed  immoder- 
ately. This  laugh,  however,  was  not  a  joyous  and 
healthful,  but  a  forced  and  spasmodic  one  ;  he  went 
so  far  in  his  injustice  as  to  consider  Philippina  as 
even  unworthy  his  regard ;  he  compared  her  in  his 
thoughts  with  his  uncle,  and  felt  that  nothing  but 
the  interest  in  business  was  wanting  to  make  her 
perfectly  like  him.  In  such  arraignment  he  again 
and  forever  thrust  out  Philippina  from  his  heart. 

Ephraim  went  to  Lessing's,  and  announced  a  desire 
to  advise  with  him,  whether  he  should  enter  into  the 
business  of  his  uncle  in  Berlin;  but  Lessing  soon 
perceived  that  the  decision  was  a  foregone  conclu- 
sion, and  did  not  condescend  to  seal  it  with  his 
authority;  he  simply  let  Ephraim  state  his  objections, 
and  when  these  were  once  stated,  they  readily,  by  a 


ON  NEW  PA  THS.  2 0 1 

series  of  rapid  mutual  questions,  received  their  refu- 
tation, for  Epliraini  explained  tliat  he  should  only 
co-operate  as  subaltern  in  the  business  0})erations  of 
his  uncle,  and  not  undertake  any  kind  of  moral  re- 
sponsibility. 

Lessing  closed  by  saying  that  he  would  give 
Ephraim  a  letter  to  take  witli  him  to  Mendelssohn, 
and  hoped  himself  soon  to  follow  it. 

It  was  with  a  refreshing  cordiality  that  Lessing  in 
simple  words  spoke  of  his  Moses,  and  his  justice 
and  generosity.  Lessing  smiled  at  the  idea  when 
Ephraim  said  that  in  Mendelssohn  the  Demon  of 
Socrates  seemed  to  have  transformed  itself  into  an 
ethical  compass.  How  strange  that  one  can  rightly 
recognize  and  designate  in  others  what  one  wants 
himself,  and  yet  does  not  recognize  as  a  deticiency! 

The  mention  of  Mendelssohn,  meanwhile,  kept  its 
hold  upon  him,  and  he  declared  that  in  one  thing  he 
agreed  with  Mendelssohn,  namely,  that  the  latter,  as  a 
self-taught  man,  had  never  been  cauglit  by  system- 
atic and  school-wisdom,  from  which  he  sought  zeal- 
ously to  keep  himself  free. 

Toward  the  end  of  April,  1763,  Ephraim  sat  with 
his  uncle  in  a  carriage,  which  took  the  road  to  Ber- 
lin. It  was  in  the  midst  of  a  disagreeable  snow- 
flurry  that  he  left  his  paternal  city,  in  which  he  had 
so  long  lived  and  suffered;  every  one  went  on  his 
way  to  his  business  or  his  pleasure;  no  one  troubled 
himself  about  him,  who  took  his  departure  with  a 
bleeding  heart. 

Veitel  had  in  March,  17G1,  received  from  the  king 


202  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

a  letter-of-patent,  that  is  to  say,  he  had  no  longer  to 
pay  Jew's  tribute,  etc.;  he  therefore  leaned  proudly 
out  of  the  coach-door,  as  he  passed  the  city  gate. 
Ephraim  sat  wrapped  in  his  cloak  in  a  corner,  with- 
out saying  a  word.  Thus  they  arrived  at  Deutsch- 
lissa,  where  they  halted.  The  host,  the  hostess  and 
the  servants,  all  sprang  forward  to  Avelcome  Veitel 
in  most  friendly  manner.  They  walked  into  the 
bar-room;  here  were  peasants  dicing  and  drinking. 
"Here  goes  for  three  doublets!"  cried  one,  and 
threw  a  leaden-sounding  two-groschen  piece  on  the 
table.  "Hollo,"  cried  the  others,  "away  with  the 
Jew  that's  not  worth  anything;  nail  the  false  churl 
to  the  table,  it's  nothing  but  an  Ephraimite." 
"Bright  on  the  outside,  but  inside  all  dim, 
Outwardly  Frederick;  inside,  Ephra-im," 

recited,  with  pathos,  the  sexton  who  sat  in  the  cor- 
ner, then,  taking  his  neighbor's  glass,  drank  to  him 
and  went  on  to  relate:  "  Old  King  Frederick ^j>r//n?^6' 
of  Prussia  once  ordered  an  alchemist,  who  had 
cheated  him,  to  be  rigged  up  in  a  dress  of  gilt  pa- 
per, to  have  a  gilt-pa'per  crown  put  on  his  head,  and  to 
be  hanged  on  a  gallows  lined  with  gilt  paper.  I  tell 
you,  after  a  Avhile,  it  will  come  to  pass,  and  the  Jew 
Veitel  Ephraim  will  hang  on  a  gallows-steel-yard 
and  its  tongue  will  never  waver,  for  in  the  day  of 
judgment  they  will  find  his  works  too  light.  So  it 
happened  not  more  than  four-and-twenty  years  ago 
with  an  old  wizard  in  Swabia,  the  Jew  Siiss;  the 
devil's  grandmother  was  liis  mother  and  the  wander- 
ing Jew  was  his  father." 


ON  NEW  PA  rilS.  203 

"  Wliere  tlien  is  Veitcl  to  be  hanged  ?  "  asked  one 
of  the  peasants;  all  laughed. 

"On  the  gallows,"  replied  another;  "it  is  all  one, 
where  he  stands;  the  king  himself,  indeed,  is  much 
to  blame  for  it,  but  Yeitel  must  after  all  pay  the 
piper.  That's  as  it  should  be,  the  Jews  are  at  the 
bottom  of  everything." 

A  Jew  peddler,  who  happened  in  and  offered  his 
wares  for  sale,  was  derided  and  insulted  by  the 
boors. 

"Na,  Smouch,"  they  cried,  "hast  thou  also  a  hand- 
some profit  from  the  money  Yeitel  has  stole  ?  He 
collects,  you  know,  for  you  Jews." 

One  of  the  boors  splashed  beer  down  the  peddler's 
neck,  whereat  the  fellow  screamed  and  all  the  rest 
laughed  and  jeered. 

During  this  whole  scene,  Yeitel,  with  his  nephew, 
had  been  sitting  at  the  table  of  distinction,  which 
was  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  room  by  a  board 
partition;  they  listened  there  in  silence  to  the  con- 
versation. Ephraim  was  still,  and  Yeitel  com- 
manded in  a  lordly  tone  to  harness  the  horses. 

"  A  pack  of  ragamuffins,"  said  Yeitel,  when  they 
had  left  the  town  behind  them;  "with  three  meas- 
ures of  beer  I  could  make  them  drink  me  a  vivat; 
why,  now,  do  the  people  insult  me  ?  Am  I  king  of 
Prussia  ?  Have  I  to  determine  what  percentage  of 
silver  a  coin  shall  have  ?  If  I  do  not  undertake  the 
supply  another  will.  What  is  it  then  I  do  ?  What 
the  king  wills;  and  what  can  it  matter  to  these 
men,  whether  thq.  money  is  good  or  bad  ?     If  they 


204  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  NT. 

only  get  brandy  for  it,  it  is  all  one.  I  have  a  good 
mind  to  turn  round  again  and  show  them  the  mas 
ter." 

Veitel  was  glad  when  his  nepheAV  decidedly  oj}- 
posed  this  last  proposition. 

They  had  come  to  a  hill ;  the  two  travelers  alighted 
and  went  up  on  foot,  Avithout  saying  a  word.  When 
they  had  reached  the  top,  Veitel  turned  round  to- 
ward the  valley,  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  nephew's 
shoulder,  said  with  a  deep  sigh : 

*'  One  has  to  endure  a  great  deal  of  hardship  and 
anxiety  in  this  world;  if  it  were  not  for  one's  chil- 
dren and  family,  one  would  often  wish  rather  to  he 
dead." 

Ephraim  looked  into,  his  uncle's  face;  a  tenderness 
one  would  never  have  dreamed  of  hovered  over  it; 
he  looked  down  into  the  valley;  all  was  still  and 
peaceful;  the  evening  bell  sounded  for  prayer,  the 
sky  had  cleared  up,  the  air  was  pure  and  trans- 
parent; on  the  snow-clad  hills  opposite  lay  the  glow- 
ing red  horizon  with  its  more  and  more  softly  melt- 
ing tints,  into  which  trees,  standing  simpl}^,  lifted  up 
like  spectres  their  snow-enveloped  skeletons. 

"  See  the  sun  sinking  with  his  last  glow  yonder  in 
the  west,"  said  Ephraim;  "I  feel  such  a  sweet  sad- 
ness, that  I,  too,  were  fain  at  this  moment  of  rapture 
to  expire  with  him." 

As  Veitel  made  no  reply,  Ephraim  continued: 

"And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  nature  is  our  only 
comforter,  she  stays  by  us  when  all  else  forsake  or 
cast  us  off.  Let  us  thank  God,  who  has  given  us  all 
this.     Spring — " 


ON  NE  W  PA  THS.  205 

"Nonsense,"  interrupted  Veitel,  "the  weather 
pleases  me,  also,  just  now,  not  a  speck  of  cloud  to  be 
liad  in  the  sky  for  a  thousand  dollars,  but  thy  Nature 
is  something  I  can't  understand;  how  canst  thou 
take  pleasure  in  fields  and  woods  that  belong  to 
strangers  ?  " 

They  resumed  their  seats  in  the  carriage ;  Ephraim 
feigned  sleep. 

The  journey  to  Berlin  was  long  and  laborious; 
Ephraim  occasionally  took  his  memorandum  book 
out  of  his  pocket  and  noted  something,  but  espe- 
cially did  he  often  look  at  the  letter  to  Mendelssohn, 
which  Lessing  had  given  him.  This  was  that  letter 
of  the  iVth  of  April,  1763,  beginning  with  the 
words:  "Herr  Kuh,  also,  is  about  journeying  to 
Berlin  and  kindly  offers  to  take  a  letter  for  me  to 
you.  I  must  not  let  an  opportunity  of  this  kind  slip 
through  my  fingers;  it  is  rare,  and  mails  do  not  go 
to  Berlin,  never  have  gone  to  Berlin,  because  in  that 
case  I  certainly  should  have  written  to  you."  Thus 
wrote  Lessing  playfully,  but  this  letter  contained 
also  a  discussion  of  Spinoza's  theory  respecting  the 
oneness  of  body  and  soul,  regarded  as  only  two 
different  modes  of  manifestation  of  one  and  the 
same  substance.  Lessing  opposed  this  theory  to  the 
harmony  maintained  by  Mendelssohn  and  sustained 
by  an  appeal  to  Leibnitz,  and  sharply  distinguished 
Spinoza's  view  from  that  of  Leibnitz. 

This  letter  may  be  regarded  in  some  measure  as  a 
picture  of  the  whole  relation  between  Lessing  and 
Mendelssohn;  free  and  sincere  personal  conjunction 


206  rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

witli  persistent  following  out  of  the  higher  philo- 
sophical questions  to  the  end  of  mutual  stimulation 
and  enlightenment. 

Ephraim  was  the  bearer  of  the  exposition  of  the 
anathematized  philosopher  and  patriot  of  the  last 
century.  He  cherished  no  desire  to  enter  into  his 
doctrine;  the  whole  age  of  Frederick  the  Great  was 
disinclined  to  this  systematic  study,  and  partly  in- 
capable of  it,  and  even  Mendelssohn,  whose  teaching 
and  influence  the  king  rejected,  stood,  notwith- 
standing his  difference,  on  the  same  point  of  view 
with  the  king,  inasmuch  as  he  conceived  philosophy 
pre-eminently  as  a  wisdom  for  the  world  or  for 
practical  life.  Often  and  devoutly  did  Ephraim 
hold  Lessing's  letter  in  his  hands  and  thought,  mean- 
while, of  a  beautiful  Jewish  sentiment,  for  it  is  an 
old  established  usage  to  commit  to  one  who  under- 
takes a  long  and  laborious  journey  a  gift,  which, 
immediately  on  arriving  at  the  place  of  his  destina- 
tion, he  must  deliver  to  some  needy  person;  the  dark 
powers  of  destiny,  which  preside  especially  over 
journeys,  are  thereby  appeased,  for  the  traveler  is, 
according  to  the  Jewish  expression,  a  "messenger 
of  virtue,"  who  is  sheltered  from  every  dark  power. 

No  one  had  dared  to  give  such  a  commission  to 
Ephraim,  as  a  presumed  free-thinker;  but  he  seemed 
to  himself  now,  by  virtue  of  his  bearing  Lessing's 
letter,  as  a  higher  emissary ;  he  carried  the  comfort- 
ing expression  of  friendly  sentiment,  the  exalting 
expression  of  unconstrained  thought  from  one  mind 
to  another. 


ON  NE  W  PA  THS.  207 

Our  two  travelers  arrived  at  length  in  Berlin. 

As  Ephraim  for  the  first  time  walked  through 
the  streets  of  Berlin,  he  must  have  been  struck  by 
the  number  of  women  dressed  in  mourning,  whom 
the  war  had  robbed  of  husbands,  brothers  and  sons. 

In  the  bright  spring  sunshine  the  signs  of  mourn- 
ing stood  out  all  the  more  sharply,  and  here  and 
there  lounged  about  men  in  military  coats,  on  whose 
faces  the  word  discharge  was  legible;  these  went 
about  with  anxiously  inquiring  look  toward  the  fut- 
ure, seeming  almost  to  envy  those  whom  shots  had 
made  cripples,  yet  who  were  provided  for,  and 
practiced  with  their  unwonted  crutches,  or  rested  on 
a  bench  in  the  sun. 

Ephraim  sought  to  lift  himself  above  the  contem- 
plation of  the  universal  destiny,  and  musing  on  the 
chances  of  his  own  life,  said  to  himself:  The  people 
with  whom  my  future  will  be  bound  up,  dwell  here 
and  there,  they  are  still  far  from  me,  perhaps  they 
will  soon  be  so  again. — So  be  it  !  These  streets, 
how  often  will  they  see  me  trudging  along,  busy, 
composing,  filled  with  joy  and  sorrow,  perhaps  arm 
in  arm  with  a  friend,  a  loved  one,  perhaps  I  shall  be 
following  the  loved  one's  bier,  or  a  child's.  I  may, 
myself,  be  soon  borne  along  a  corpse;  be  it  so!  I 
will  clasp  the  joy  to  my  heart  and  set  a  chair  for  the 
sorrow,  as  for  an  old  acquaintance.  Remove  thy 
veil,  disguised  future,  whatever  face  thou  hidest  I 
know  it,  and  am  ready  to  meet  it. 

Presumptuous  one!  he  did  not  learn  till  later  to 
perceive  what  he  had  arrogated  to  himself,  and  how 


208  POE  T  A  ND  MERC  HA  NT. 

useless  it  is,  in  the  sunshine  of  fortune  to  encumber 
one's  self  with  the  rain-mantle;  the  storm  will  only 
be  caught  the  more  in  the  mantle's  wide  folds. 

Ephraim  had  found  old  Emanuel  sick;  full  of  sor- 
row he  sat  by  his  sick-bed,  and  admired  the  heroism 
with  which  he  bore  his  pains.  Ephraim  took  it  as 
a  good  omen,  that  his  first  employment  on  entenng 
these  new  paths  of  life  was  privileged  to  consist  in 
reaching  the  friendly  hand  to  the  forsaken. 


15.— DE  AMICITIA. 

EPHRABI'S  first  visit  was  claimed  by  Moses 
Mendelsshon.  The  house,  in  Spandau  street, 
was  easy  to  find,  for  the  inn  of  "  the  Golden  Star," 
which  was  not  far  from  it,  served  as  a  guide.  Ac- 
cording to  his  habit  of  always  seeking  after  signifi- 
cant emblems,  he  found  such  a  one  in  this  way- 
mark.  It  was,  therefore,  in  a  doubly  exalted  frame 
of  mind  that  Ephraim  entered  the  house. 

Mendelssohn  had  just  returned  from  the  counting- 
house  of  the  widow  Bernhard,  where  he  was  book- 
keeper and  partner;  several  visitors  were  with  him 
and  were  conversing  in  a  low  tone. 

The  almost  gnome-like  form  of  Mendelssohn 
might  have  appeared  disagreeable,  had  not  mildness 
and  philanthropy,  which,  like  smiling  genii,  sat 
throned  upon  his  cauntenance,  instantly  prepossessed 
every  one  in  his  favor. 

The  disproportionately  broad  head,  as  in  the  case 
of  all  humpbacks,  sat  low  down  between  the  shoul- 
ders; a  beard  kept  neatly  cut  on  cheek  and  neck,  and 
running  out  to  a  point  at  the  chin,  might  have 
14 


210  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

passed  for  the  sign  of  Rabbinical  dignity  and  observ- 
ance; the  prominent  and  boldly  arched  nose,  with  its 
broad  nostrils,  further  completed  in  this  countenance 
tlie  stamp  of  the  Jewish  character.  The  two  finely- 
cut  lips  projected  themselves  in  parallel  lines;  in  the 
deep-set  black  eyes  gleamed  the  light  of  a  truth-lov- 
ing soul;  the  noble  arch  of  the  forehead,  whose 
whiteness  the  black  velvet  cap  made  still  more  con- 
spicuous, might  have  served  as  the  sign  of  antique 
clearness  and  repose.  Thus  did  Ephraim  discover  in 
this  countenance  a  mixture  of  classic  and  rabbinical 
elements,  which  he  would  fain  recognize  in  Mendels- 
sohn's whole  method  of  working. 

In  the  externals  of  the  room,  also,  the  same  double- 
ness  manifested  itself,  for  near  the  bust  of  Socrates, 
on  a  pillar  in  the  corner,  hung  the  Jewish,  so-called, 
3Ilsrach^  a  framed  Hebrew  memorial  tablet,  with  the 
indication  that  here  was  the  Eastern  side,  toward 
which  one  has  to  turn  his  face  in  prayer. 

Mendelssohn  had  only  been  married  a  year;  he  was 
in  his  thirty-fourth  year,  Ephraim  was  only  two  years 
younger;  though  the  latter  seemed  very  raw  and 
youthfully  unsettled  compared  with  the  former,  he, 
too,  meant  henceforth  to  be  more  firm. 

Mendelssohn,  with  a  certain  measured  movement 
like  that  of  a  man  of  the  world,  yet  with  a  stuttering 
peculiar  to  himself  in  his  speech,  excused  himself  to 
Ephraim  and  the  rest  of  the  company,  while  he  read 
the  letter  he  had  just  received;  from  the  changing 
exi)ression  of  his  features,  beginning  with  a  radiant 
smile,  presently  passing  over  into  severe  philosophio 


DE  AMICITIA.  211 

meditation  and  shakings  of  the  head,  one  could  read 
off  pretty  nearly  the  general  drift  of  the  letter. 

He  folded  the  letter  up  again  and  went  into  tlie 
adjoining  room.  Ephraim  now  learned  that  Men- 
delssohn's object  was  to  look  after  his  wife  and  his 
little  daughter  three  days  old. 

Among  the  visitors  were  the  two  Doctors,  Bloch 
and  Gumperz,  elder  friends  of  Mendelssohn,  and  the 
mathematician  Abraham  Wolf,  called  Abraham 
Reckoner,  who  had  grouped  themselves  around  a  lean 
figure  who  reported  with  much  self-complacency  that 
the  "  Letters  touching  the  latest  Literature  "  had  just 
appeared  in  a  third  edition,  but  now,  and  with  the 
consent  of  Lessing,  had  been  brought  to  a  close; 
that  now  it  was  important  to  unite  all  minds  striving 
after  freedom,  in  order  to  achieve,  partly  in  a  crit- 
ical but  partly  also  in  a  positive  way,  a  work  which 
should  serve,  more  thoroughly  than  the  French  En- 
cyclopedia, to  cultivate  and  organize  the  provinces 
which  had  beefl  conquered  in  the  interest  of  free 
thought  and  good  taste.  He  named  the  "  Universal 
German  Library." 

It  soon  came  out  that  the  enterprising  reformer 
was  the  bookseller,  Nicolai. 

He  addressed  his  exposition  to  a  man  of  extremely 
quiet  and  composed  bearing,  who  only  nodded  assent 
from  time  to  time,  and  who  in  his  reserved  and 
measured  manner  contrasted  singularly  with  the 
restless  and  fiery  Nicolai. 

Ephraim  started  when  the  name  of  Professor 
Eamler  was  whispered  to  him. 


212  POE T  AND  MER CHANT. 

In  a  corner  sat  a  Pole  in  a  dirty  Icutha,  crouching 
in  a  chair;  he  seemed  not  to  notice  the  company  nor 
was  he  noticed  by  them. 

"  Our  Mendelssohn  is  certainly  passing  fortunate," 
said  Doctor  Bloch;  "  it  is  fitting  that  after  such  sore 
conflicts  he  should  enjoy  at  last  the  joys  and  com- 
forts of  life;  he  has  a  clearly  defined  path  of  thought, 
a  moderate  income,  a  healthy  little  daughter — " 

"  And  a  brave  housewife,"  cried  another. 

"  And  a  clever  and  estimable  sister-in-law,"  put  in 
a  third. 

"  Are  you  nearly  done  with  your  balance-sheet  ?  " 
cried  Doctor  Gumperz;  "the  best  thing  of  all  you 
have  forgotten  to  note,  and  that  is:  true  friends." 

"Aye,  he  has  only  too  many  friends;  he  might 
continue  Plutarch's  treatise  on  Pohjxjhilia^^  said  one 
of  the  company ;  "  I  always  think  he  who  is  so  hail-fel- 
low-well-met with  all  the  world,  great  and  small,  old 
and  young,  rich  and  poor,  cannot  be  really  intimate 
with  any  one;  I  will  not  reason  the  matter,  but — " 

"  Only  envy  or  short-sightedness  can  pass  such 
a  judgment,"  said  Doctor  Bloch,  with  vehemence; 
"in  that  case  every  one  would  gladly  claim  the 
ground-plot  of  his  friendship  as  his  own  domain,  and 
if  that  were  impracticable,  he  says  it  must,  besides, 
be  unfruitful  land,  since  it  is  perverted  to  a  common 
highway." 

"  For  such  disquisitions,  my  dear  colleague,"  said 
Doctor  Gumperz  in  a  refractory  tone,  "  this  is  neither 
the  time  nor  the  place;  let  us  dro})  all  personalities; 
I  should  incline  to  assert  that  the  revival  of  the 


DE  AIlf/C/T/A.y\     .-^  213 

sentiment  of  friendship  is  a  blossom  fWl^^^Jih^ts, 
and  slips  of  the  classic  culture  of  antiquKy;  Vhicu 
we  have  imported  into  our  times;  antiquity  alone 
understood  friendship;  the  middle  ages,  whose  gate 
of  exit  has  closed  behind  us,  knew  only  woman's 
love;  men  were  comrades,  but  seldom  friends  in  the 
deeper  sense  of  the  word;  in  our  day  the  true  phi- 
losophy and  poetry  bloom  out  again,  and  with  them 
friendship  also;  It  might  be  shown  statistically 
that  there  are  more  voluntary  bachelors  or  so-called 
crah-st'icks  in  our  times  than  in  any  former;  this  cer- 
tainly has  its  deeper  cause  in  the  newly  awakened 
life  of  learning  and  friendship." 

" Mascnificent !  "  cried  Bloch;  "whoever  now  re- 
mains  a  bachelor,  obeys  a  universal-historical  neces- 
sity." 

"  Our  friend  Mendelssohn  works-over  Plato's  Phse- 
don  in  a  way  of  his  own;  would  not  you  work-over 
in  a  similar  manner  Cicero's  treatise  on  Friendship  ? 
I'll  publish  it,"  said  Nicolai. 

Mendelssohn  entered,  and  Nicolai  said  to  him: 
"We  were  just  speaking  of  friendship;  Herr  Gum- 
perz  demands  in  liiis  also  the  study  of  the  ancients." 

"  Have  you  then  settled  an  idea  or  found  a  defini- 
tion of  friendship  ?  else  all  will  come  back  again  to 
a  war  of  words,"  said  Mendelssohn,  and  the  Pole, 
who  sat  in  the  corner,  rose  and  joined  the  circle,  in 
which  for  a  while  silence  ensued. 

"What  need  is  there  of  any  long  thinking  here?" 
said  the  Pole,  with  the  characteristic  accent  of  Polish 
Jews;  "Friendship is  the  practical  union  of  independ- 
ent and  consentaneous  persons." 


214  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"Bravo,  my  dear  Ilerr  Maimon,"  said  Bloch;  "I 
could  not  at  this  moment  lind  any  flaw  there." 

"If  one  adds  egotism,  sympathy,  and  weakness, 
friendship  will  be  the  result,"  said  Abraham  Reck- 
oner. 

"  You  must  not  imagine  that  the  man  is  so  bad," 
whispered  Bloch  in  our  Ephraim's  ear:  "he  has 
formed  the  liabit  once  for  all  of  shrugging  his 
shoulders  at  everything,  and  now  he  has  got  a 
chronic  jerk  and  cannot  get  rid  of  it." 

"I  miss  in  your  definition,  dear  Ilerr  Maimon," 
said  Mendelssohn,  holding,  as  he  spoke,  his  chin 
with  its  peaked  beard  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  "I 
miss  in  your  definition  the  basis  of  genial  activity, 
• — good-will;  firm  alliance  of  two  merchants  for 
business  purposes  may  also  be  called  an  actual  union 
of  independent  and  consentaneous  minds  on  the  prac- 
tical side,  which  is  certainly  the  main  thing,  as,  indeed, 
one  speaks  of  business-friends;  but  Aristotle  him- 
self justly  calls  friendship  for  a  common  external  ob- 
ject, be  it  political  or  commercial,  merely  agreement, 
and  rightly  distinguishes  it  from  friendship  proper. 
Friendships,  also,  formed  for  the  sake  of  pleasure  or 
profit,  these  in  age,  and  those  in  youth,  are,  like  their 
basis,  transitory.  With  friendship,  as  the  free  union 
between  creatures  of  the  same  species,  man  rises 
above  the  bestial  nature,  and  above  his  own  individ- 
uality; the  attachment  of  different  sexes  the  beast 
also  experiences,  and  we  know  how  many  in  our  time 
will  not  allow  that  love  has  any  further  siguifi- 
cance — " 


DE  A  MIC  I TI A.  215 

'*  Aristotle  and  Cicero," — Ramlcrhere  interpolated 
tlie  remark — "  cliaracterize  the  quality  of  frieiidsliip, 
primarily,  in  showing  its  distinction  from  blood-rela- 
tionship." 

"  And  in  their  way,  justly,"  continued  Mendelssohn. 
"Through  friendship,  the  bond  between  persons 
who  are  immediately  connected  neither  by  the  tie  of 
consanguinity,  of  sex,  nor  of  state,  man  rises  out  of 
rude  nature  into  the  realm  of  consciousness,  of  the 
free  spirit." 

"The  realm  of  the  free  spirit,"  said  Nicolai,  "is 
still,  up  to  this  time,  the  Polish  Elective  Empire;  un- 
reason, superstition  and  superannuated  prejudice  have 
the  last  and  loudest  word,  therefore  we  must  root 
them  out  and  annihilate  them  with  all  our  might, 
for  not  even  friendship  can  thrive  among  them." 

"There  are  two  sides  to  the  question,"  said 
Gumperz;  "whether  prejudiced  persons  may  not  be 
friends,  for  one  may  certainly  always  call  the  orig- 
inal ground  of  that  good-will  w^hich  cannot  give  any 
account  of  itself,  prejudice.  But  let  us  rather  ask: 
can  only  virtuous  men  be  friends  ?  " 

"  That  is  like  putting  a  light  into  the  tube  to  see 
the  sun  by,"  said  Mairaon,  laughing;  "friendship  is 
in  itself  a  virtue,  therefore  only  virtuous  persons  are 
friends." 

"That  last  remark  is  also  made  by  Aristotle  in 
his  Nichomachean  Ethics,  and  almost  in  the  same 
words,"  added  Mendelssohn.  With  a  seemingly  self- 
mocking  and  yet  bold  tone,  Maimon  rejoined:  "If 
Aristotle  said  that,  he,  too,  is  a  clever  man.     But  I 


216  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

think,  also,  for  the  same  reason,  that  if  two  robbers 
are  pledged  to  one  another  with  heart  and  hand, 
they,  too,  are  friends  as  much  as  two  philosophers." 
"Right,"  said  Mendelssohn;  "  if  one  robber-friend 
keeps  truth  and  faith  with  another,  saves  hira  from 
the  danger  of  imprisonment  and  death,  he  has  so  far 
come  back  upon  the  stand-point  of  virtue,  of  mutual 
aid  and  comfort;  that  this  act,  in  the  case  supposed, 
sets  itself  in  contradiction  to  the  arrangements  of 
society,  makes  no  change  in  its  original  ground  as 
such.  The  robber  can  perform  a  virtuous  action, 
but  he  is  not  therefore  virtuous.  In  Xenophon's 
Memorabilia,  also,  Socrates  shows  that  one  can  have 
only  a  virtuous  man  for  a  friend,  and  if  one  will  call 
such  a  friend  his  own,  he  must  himself  also  be  virtu- 
ous or  strive  to  be.  A  friend  takes  another's  justifi- 
cation of  him  as  his  own,  as  I  was  once  delighted  by 
the  words  of  a  friend  who  wrote  to  me  :  'Your 
better  thoughts  are  nothing  more  than  my  second 
thoughts.'  A  friend  is  our  objective  and  incarnate 
conscience;  we  rejoice  with  him  when  we  do  a  good 
deed;  our  life  is  in  him,  and  his  life  in  us;  we  mourn 
and  grieve  in  him  and  through  him,  over  an  action 
which  contradicts  our  inner  aspirations.  As  we  are 
happy  in  the  thought  of  God  who  is  above  all  life 
and  through  his  Providence  acts  for  us,  so  have  we 
in  a  friend  a  faint  tyi:)e  of  the  sway  of  a  spirit  out 
of  ourselves,  which  belongs  to  us,  and  to  which  we 
belong.  Even  if  a  vicious  man  may  have  a  friend, 
yet  he  cannot  keep  him;  some  collision  or  other  will 
sepal-ate  them ;  for  there  is  wanting  to  them  the  guar- 


DE  AMICITIA.  217 

anty  of  the  law  which  rests  in  virtue,  and  vice  is 
lawlessness  in  its  widest  sense." 

Ephraim  listened  with  greedy  attention;  tlie 
academic  life  of  the  serene  Greeks  seemed  risen 
again  before  his  eyes;  at  first  shyly  and  softly,  but 
then  more  and  more  loudly  and  with  increasing  in- 
spiration, he  said:  "I  cannot  comprehend  how  you 
would  hold  the  question  concerning  the  highest 
good  as  an  open  one;  certainly  there  may  be  dijffer- 
ences  according  to  time,  place  and  personality;  but 
one  thing  is  et'ernal  and  universal  and  for  all:  that 
is,  a  friend.  To  know  one's  self  doubled  and  yet 
one,  all  our  loving,  suffering  and  hoping  safe  in  a 
Beyond  which  we  can  clasp  to  our  hearts,  not  merely 
a  certain  idea  and  aspiration,  abstracted  from  per- 
sonality, but  to  know  that  this  personality  with  all 
its  slags  and  peculiaritijes  is  taken  up,  cherished  and 
loved  by  another — " 

"That  shows  a  tincture  of  love,"  interrupted 
Gumperz.  "  You  prescribe  too  much  succus  liquori' 
tiae,  which,  if  not  quickly  enjoyed,  in  a  few  days 
grows  sour;  if  one  mixes  up  with  friendship  what 
the  world  calls  love,  but  what  is  certainly  only  a 
sexual  relation,  it  will  soon  die  out.  Take  now 
youthful  friendships;  the  attractive  impulse  is  there, 
but  it  knows  not  yet  its  object;  so  one  hugs  and 
kisses  his  young  friend;  but  how  few  such  friend- 
ships can  pass  over  into  life.  Friendship  is  only  a 
product  of  the  ripe  and  self-conscious  spirit." 

"I  am  of  your  view,  also,"  said  Bloch,  "that  you 
should  widen  this  idea  of  friendship  so  far  as  to 


218  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

make  out  that  it  thrives  only  between  ripe  and  free 
spirits,  for  this  also  is  to  be  taken  into  the  account, 
that,  in  contradistinction  to  love,  it  may  and  must 
be  based  on  reflective  and  intelligent  recognition. 
If  the  friend  is  our  second,  and  often  our  better  self, 
so  is  the  loved  one  a  part  of  our  very  self,  and  in  a 
legitimate  relation  the  half  of  our  self;  our  care  for 
the  loved  one  lies  immediately  in  the  principle  of 
self-preservation;  for  the  friend,  only  indirectly. 
To  the  second  self  a  third  and  fourth  may  associate 
themselves;  the  second  half  of  the  self  can  only  have 
one  other,  the  first,  for  its  own;  for  that  reason,  too, 
love  is  jealous,  friendship  not." 

"  Herr  Kuh,  however,  is  very  right  in  bringing  in 
the  personal  element  also,"  said  Mendelssohn;  and 
Ephraim  felt  himself  wonderfully  moved  at  hearing 
his  name  mentioned  approvingly  by  the  venerated 
philosopher.  All  listened  attentively  as  Mendels- 
sohn went  on:  "I  must  refer  again  to  Aristotle, 
who  sharply  and  decidedly  distinguishes  between 
benevolence  and  friendship;  the  former  takes  into 
consideration  only  the  general  good  qualities  of  an- 
other and  wishes  and  offers  them  encouragement; 
it  may  be  as  general  as  possible;  benevolence  is  the 
starting-point  of  all  friendship,  but  the  former  does 
not  always  attain  to  the  latter;  benevolence  intensi- 
fied is  not  friendship,  which  needs  a  thoroughly  new 
element;  it  demands  a  23ersonal  inclination,  a  love 
for  and  pleasure  in  precisely  this  special  manifesta- 
tion of  the  universal  humanity.  Very  many  per^ 
Bonal  relations  stop  at  the  stage  of  general  human 
benevolence." 


DE  AMICITIA.  219 

"And  just  that  is  a  bitter  experience,"  Gumperz 
broke  in,  "  when  a  relation  makes  no  progress,  when 
it  always  remains  what  it  was  at  the  beginning." 

"Tliat  is  never  the  case,"  replied  Mendelssohn; 
"  only  one  must  not  be  provoked  because  one  does 
not  attain  what  one  wished  and  hoped;  one  must  not 
transform  the  false  assumption  into  a  disappointed 
expectation.  Human  life  has  its  parallel  in  nature. 
Why  do  the  trees  grow  in  the  forest  ?  " 

"  To  yield  useful  wood." 

"And  the  orchard  trees?" 

"To  bear  fruit." 

"Very  well.  But  now  he  who  expects  apples  and 
figs  of  a  forest  tree,  does  he  not  do  wrong  if  he  com- 
plains of  disappointed  expectation  and  condemns 
the  tree  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  see,"  cried  Nicolai,  triumphantly,  who 
loved  to  publish  even  the  oral  productions  of  his 
friends,  and  looked  upon  them  with  joyful  inspira- 
tion as  his  own  editions,  and  bespoke  an  interest  in 
them  by  explanatory  prefaces :  "  Do  you  see,  there  you 
have  the  essence  of  the  new  humanity:  to  postulate 
the  natural  results  of  things  and  to  search  out  their 
nature.  It  is  explicable,  taken  emblematically  and 
applied  to  man,  with  the  power  of  free-will,  that 
w^hen  the  fig-tree  is  cursed,  which,  at  the  appointed 
time,  when  one  needs  it,  bears  no  fruit,  it  should  be 
condoned  to  wither  away.  Every  one  must  work 
and  be  useful." 

The  conversation  suddenly  came  to  a  stand,  as  so 
easily  happens  in  the  free  intercourse  of  many;  they 


220  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

had  got  upon  a  by-Avay;  they  stood  as  men  lost  in  a 
strange  region,  and  must  first  take  their  bearings; 
they  felt  the  discomfort  of  aimless  digression,  and 
no  one  ventured  to  offer  himself  as  guide,  till  at  last 
Mendelssolm,  with  a  characteristic  shaking  of  the 
head,  took  up  the  word  again. 

"Let  us  stick  to  our  subject.  We  have  seen  that 
benevolence  .can  be  unlimited,  whereas  friendship, 
in  which  the  whole  personality,  with  all  its  attri- 
butes, unites  itself  to  another,  must,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  have  its  limits;  a  full  personality,  to  be  ac- 
cepted on  the  one  hand,  must  be  made  over  on  the 
other.  Classic  Antiquity,  which  developed,  far  more 
than  that  of  Love,  the  essence  and  idea  of  Friend- 
ship, has  recorded  I  know  not  how  many  instances 
of  pairs  of  friends." 

"  There  are  three  or  even  four  pairs,"  said  Ramler, 
"Achilles  and  Patroclus,  Theseus  and  Pirithous, 
Orestes  and  Pylades,  Damon  and  Pythias;*  Plutarch 
adds  a  fifth  to  the  number  in  Pelopidas  and  Epam- 
inondas." 

"  The  fundamental  condition  of  friendship  is  like- 
ness," said  Mendelssohn,  and  Ramler,  by  way  of 
confirmation,  added: 

"  Cicero  laid  down  as  a  condition  even  similarity 
of  pursuits  and  of  natural  dispositions." 

"  And  those  good  sisters  of  Mother  Nature,  dear 
Aunt  Custom  and  wise  Aunt  Sophistics,  are  tSe  best 
corrupters  and  pimps  in  the  matter,"  whispered 
Abraham  Reckoner  in  Ephraini's  ear.      Tlie   latter 

*  Phytitias  is  Auerbach's  reading. 


DE  AMICITIA.  221 

turned  away,  disgusted  as  well  at  what  was  said  as 
at  the  impoliteness  of  attempting  a  whispered  dia- 
logue, where  all  were  united  in  a  loud  thinking. 
He  turned  his  attention  to  Gumperz,  who  now  re- 
sumed : 

"  That  may  well  be  the  reason,  too,  as  I  was  going 
to  remark  some  moments  ago,  why  our  friend,  Mai- 
mon,  included  the  word  *  independent '  in  his  defini- 
tion of  friendship;  equality  alone  makes  men  truly 
independent.  Between  teacher  and  scholar  in  the 
broadest  sense  of  the  word,  between  superior  and 
inferior,  master  and  servant,  rich  and  poor,  no 
friendship  is  possible.  No  friendship  can  be  built 
on  gratitude,  though  perhaps  love  may,  which  as  a 
creature  of  the  affections  overleaps  all  differences; 
in  love  one  hears  of  mine  and  thine,  only  when  the 
lovers  whisper  to  each  other:  Thou  art  mine  and  I 
am  thine. — A  rich  man  who  w^ill  have  a  poor  one  for 
a  true  friend  must  not  leave  him  to  his  poverty  and 
distress,  and  he  will  not  demand  any  thanks  for  re- 
lieving it,  because  he  is  conscious  that  in  a  like  case 
he  should  expect  the  same  treatment;  gratitude  takes 
away  independence,  free  judgement  and  equality  at 
once." 

"  You  reverse  the  king's  motto,  and  say  instead  of 
sutmi  cuique — meum  cuique:  mine  to  eacli^''  inter- 
posed Maimon,  turning  his  hand  rapidly  over  and 
over  as  he  spoke,  and  moving  it  to  and  fro  after  the 
manner  of  Talmudists.  "  There  was  a  fellows-coun- 
tryman sent  to  me  yesterday,  with  a  letter  of  recom- 
mendation that  I  should  help  him.     I  was  still  in  bed 


222  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

studying,  because  I  had  no  wood  to  make  a  fire  witb. 
*ril  tell  you  what,'  said  I  to  the  stranger,  *I  will 
move  to  one  side;  you  get  in  by  me  and  warm 
yourself;  that  is  all  I  can  do  for  you." 

There  was  a  laugli,  but  the  earnest  physician 
would  not  let  himself  lose  his  composure  and  went 
on: 

"  The  Pythagorean  society  was  based  upon  practi- 
cal friendship,  and  Pythagoras  lays  down  the  fun- 
damental condition:  Friends  must  have  all  things 
in  common.  The  poor  man  who  receives  from  the 
rich,  as  his  friend,  can  do  so  independently.  The 
free  and  generous  man  takes  just  as  freely  as  he 
gives;  it  is  only  a  more  refined  egotism  when  people 
would  rather  give  than  receive;  it  requires  a  freer 
soul  to  receive." 

"  I  accept,"  Maimon  again  interrupted,  "  and  now  I 
am  even  proud  of  it."  And  again  Gumperz  contin- 
ued: 

"  But  I  would  like  to  propound  one  more  question : 
Can  a  grandee,  a  mighty  ruler,  have  a  friend  ?  Has 
our  King  Frederick  a  friend  ?  " 

"I  think  not,  but  you  mix  too  many  things  up 
together,"  said  Mendelssohn. 

"What  of  that?"  rejoined  the  impetuous  physi- 
cian; "every  one  can  pick  out  for  himself  what  he 
likes:  I  simply  say:  a  genuine  king,  who  Avill  himself, 
and  only  out  of  himself,  govern,  can  have  no  friend, 
for  the  friend  has  the  right  and  duty  to  exert  upon  his 
friend's  disposition  and  conduct  an  immediate  influ- 
ence;   an   autocrat   cannot   allow  that,  and   so   he 


DE  AMICITIA.  223 

stands  alone  on  bis  dreary  lieigllt;  our  mcomparablo 
King  Frederick  is  jealous  of  his  sole  sovereignty,  lie 
despises  avarice  and  self-interest,  he  will  have  nc 
favorite  and  he  has — no  friend;  those  marshals,  Jor- 
dan, D'Argens,  D'Alambert,  and  so  on,  with  whom 
he  is  personally  or  epistolarily  in  friendly  alliance, 
are  they  friends  ?  Though  he  makes  ever  so  many 
poems  of  friendship,  still  that,  after  all,  is  only  a  poetic 
pastime.  You,  yourself,  lierr  Mendelssohn,  have 
pointed  out  to  him  in  your  critique  of  his  poems,  that 
he  puts  thoughts  into  verse,  which  cannot  he  his  own, 
and  he  has  justly  taken  it  ill  of  you,  that  you  have 
submissively  exposed  to  him  where  lie  the  gaps  and 
logical  contradictions.  What  can  a  prince  do  with 
an  independent  friend  who  is  a  friend  of  truth  ?  A 
king  could  only  have  youthful  friends,  but  one  for- 
gets the  anti-Macchiavellis  and  the  friends  of  his 
youth,  when  one  is  king." 

"Friendship  is  the  highest  good,  it  is  an  angel," 
said  Abraham  Reckoner;  "but  unhai)pily,  we  with 
our  spectacles  can  no  longer  see  angels.  The  strong 
needs  no  angel  and  no  friend;  he  can  support  him- 
self: a  so-called  friend  is  only  a  staff  for  the  weak 
to  lean  on — " 

"And  which,  like  the  rod  of  Moses,  becomes  a 
serpent  when  one  throws  it  away;"  observed  Eph- 
raim.  A  keen  glance  from  the  eye  of  Mendelssohn 
smote  Ephraim  and  pierced  him  to  the  heart,  but 
Mendelssohn  turned  to  the  well-known  mocker,  and 
explained  to  him  how  friendsliip  did  not  spring  from 
helplessness,  and  Ramler  backed  him  in  this  with  a 
pretty  citation  from  Plato's  Lysis. 


224  POE  T  AND  MERCHANT. 

Mendelssohn  had  now  another  little  skirmish  with 
Doctor  Gumperz  npon  the  relation  between  friend- 
ship and  honor.  The  modern  Socrates  applied  here- 
in, not  only  the  intellectual  midwifery  of  the  Mas- 
ter, but  also  a  piece  of  Talmudic  tactics,  in  provoking 
his  opponent  to  uncovered  sallies,  in  order  at  last 
to  take  him  prisoner;  but  it  was  a  mild  imprison- 
ment, in  which  the  parties  at  last  concluded  a  mut- 
ual peace. 

Ramler  once  more  directed  attention  to  another 
side  of  the  conversation,  while,  bearing  in  mind  its 
extended  literary  references,  he  started  a  discussion 
upon  the  justification  of  a  breach  of  friendship  and 
again  represented  the  opinion  of  Aristotle,  who  des- 
ignates inequality  in  the  progress  of  intellectual 
culture  as  justifying  its  dissolution. 

Mendelssohn  seemed  to  himself  to  have  lingered 
too  long  in  classic  antiquity;  with  a  characteristic 
devoutness  he  brought  out  the  Bible  and  explained 
that  Judaism  also  set  friendship  in  high  honor,  and 
speaking  of  David  and  Jonathan,  he  readily  found 
the  passage  in  the  penitential  Psalm  of  David  re- 
specting his  lost  friend,  (11.  Samuel,  I,  26.)  "Thy 
love  to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of 
women."  But  coming  back  also  to  the  living  pres- 
ent, and  as  if  he  would  conjure  up  at  length  the  in- 
timate friend  from  whom  to-day  he  had  received 
new  tidings,  he  repeated  with  a  voice  of  emotion  the 
aphorism  of  Lessing: 

«*  He  who  seeks  friends,  deserves  a  friend  to  have; 
He  who  has  none,  a  friend  did  never  crave." 


DE  AMICITIA.  225 

This  was  the  closing  strain  and  key-note. 

The  company  retired;  it  was  as  if  a  church  of  the 
spirit  had  been  dismissed  with  a  blessing. 

On  the  stairs  Gumperz  said  to  Ephraim:  "We  can 
enlarge  the  friendly  couples  of  the  ancients  with  one 
more  beautiful  example,  the  two  intellectual  heroes, 
Lessing  and  Mendelssohn,  who  were  born  in  the 
same  year.  It  is  not  without  significance  that  these 
two  members  of  different  confessions  stand  at  the 
gate-posts  of  the  entrance  into  the  new  age,  or,  more 
properly,  are  themselves  such." 

"With  an  inward  exaltation  never  before  experi- 
enced, Ephraim  left  the  house  of  Mendelssohn;  all 
refraction  was  forgotten  and  he  felt  his  whole  being 
bathed  as  in  a  pure  ether;  he  found  himself  sud- 
denly plunged  into  the  onward  sweeping  stream  of 
mighty  intellects  which  aspired  to  the  highest  and 
noblest  achievements  of  humanity,  and  stood  in  liv- 
ing intercourse  with  the  best  minds  in  the  past. 
New  and  fresh  ardor  inspired  him.  It  was  not 
merely  that  joy  which  we  feel  when  we  go  away 
from  a  company  richer  in  thought  and  with  deeper 
incitements;  in  this  case  the  special  circumstance 
was  added  that  Ephraim  felt  himself  brought  into 
a  circle  of  superior  minds;  whereas  in  Breslau,  ex- 
cepting his  rare  meetings  with  Lessing,  in  his  for- 
mer circles  of  acquaintance  he  could  make  his  own 
superiority  felt. 

Add  to  this,  that  in  his  native  town  he  always  re- 
garded himself  as  measured  under  conditions  and 
Dy  standards  which  in  his  development  he  had  al- 
15 


226  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

ready  surpassed;  but  here,  now,  he  entered  as  a 
susceptible  nature,  without  the  drawback  of  any  ret- 
rospective reference  into  a  society  of  elevated  minds, 
and  the  value  which  was  assigned  to  him  became 
his  worth  in  his  own  eyes.  To  one  honestly  striv- 
ing to  improve  himself  it  became  thus  a  true  exal- 
tation to  be  able  to  look  up  to  highly  exalted  char- 
acters; the  view  grows  large  and  extensive,  as  in 
the  contemplation  of  mighty  mountains,  whose  sum- 
mit receives  the  earliest  greeting  of  the  sun. 

And,  while  in  the  world  of  thought  freely  aspir- 
ing minds  strove  to  fathom  anew  the  meaning  of  life 
and  its  eternal  norms,  while  they  tested  the  current 
intellectual  coinage,  now  rejecting  these  as  worth- 
less counters,  now  determining  there  the  worthless 
alloy,  and  stamping  all  anew;  the  business  world 
was  also  agitated.  The  law  which  made  uncurrent 
all  moneys  coined  during  the  war,  changed  the  usual 
and  supposed  secure  state  of  property  through  all 
strata  of  society.  There  were  now  discharged  men 
and  invalids  of  quite  another  kind  from  those  made 
so  by  sword  and  bullet.  A  hero  of  the  Berlin  ex- 
change and  one  of  the  most  respectable  citizens  of 
the  place,  John  Gotzkowski,  was  reduced  by  this 
stroke,  in  connection  with  other  misfortunes,  to  the 
beggar's  staff.  As  after  an  earthquake,  people 
looked  round  to  see  whether  this  or  that  house  were 
still  standing,  and  many  a  one  could  only  be  kept 
up  by  a  swift  application  of  outside  props. 

Ephraim  had,  as  cashier  of  his  uncle — who,  as  one 
"  in  good  favor,"  seemed  by  his  high  connections  to 


DE  AMICITIA.  227 

have  anticipated  the  surprising  emergency— a  heap 
of  business  on  his  shoulders  in  connection  with  the 
financial  operations  bearing  upon  it;  and  often  was 
he  tried  by  the  painful  feeling  in  what  kind  of  an 
activity  he  was  engaged,  but  Emanuel  consoled  him 
with  the  thought  that,  once  enlisted,  he  could  not, 
as  a  good  soldier,  any  longer  ask  for  a  justification 
of  the  campaign. 

Simultaneously  with  Ephraim  a  young  Italian  had 
entered  his  uncle's  counting-room;  the  feeling  of 
strangeness  and  of  a  common  necessity  of  accustom- 
ing themselves  to  the  yoke  first  brought  the  two  in- 
to intimacy.  Ephraim  had  at  once  the  sense  of 
home  and  of  strangeness,  for  he  was  with  his  rela- 
tions; and  to  this  was  added  his  special  knowledge 
of  the  Italian  language;  he  could  meet  the  handsome 
young  man  with  the  glowing  look  in  the  familiar 
sounds  of  home,  and  they  attached  themselves  to 
each  other  with  the  ardor  and  delight  with  which 
one  forms  a  first  friendship. 

The  contrast  of  age  between  Emanuel  and  Eph- 
raim made  it  impossible  that  they  should  be  in  all 
ways  friends  and  companions.  Emanuel,  too,  was 
sickly  and  was  already  entering  on  that  last  turn  of 
life  where  it  bends  round  again  toward  its  starting 
point;  he  had  worked  himself,  so  to  speak,  into  the 
conscious  state  of  growing  childishness;  he  let 
every-day  life  in  many  ways  go  unregarded,  and 
gave  himself  up  exclusively  to  particular  ideas  and 
amusements.  But  Ephraim,  however  well  advanced 
he  was  into  the  age  of  manhood,  nevertheless   was 


228  POE T  AND  MER  CHANT. 

just  entering  properly  upon  the  great  stage  of  life. 
Trevirano  was  here  the  very  guide  he  wanted:  he 
was  young,  bold  and  handsome.  When  Ephraini 
went  arm  in  arm  with  his  friend  through  the  streets, 
he  smiled  quietly  within  himself,  for  he  knew  that 
he  should  now  be  made  doubly  interesting  through 
his  companion  to  the  fair  damsels  of  his  own  faith, 
and  that  they  now  for  three  days  would  talk  of 
nothing  else  at  their  gatherings  but  of  Zerlina's 
cousin  and  the  pale,  interesting  Christian  who 
Avalked  wdtli  him.  Malicious  enviers  did,  indeed, 
spread  abroad  the  report  that  Trevirano  was  a  baptized 
Jew,  and  hence  his  affability  towards  that  nation; 
but  Ephraim  knew,  to  be  sure,  that  his  comrade  was 
an  Italian  noble  and  emigrant,  and  only  by  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  times  had  been  driven  to  his  pres- 
ent occupation. 

Ephraim  would  no  longer  suffer  anything  to  grow 
under  the  protection  of  dark  powers ;  he  felt  of  the 
young  germs  to  crush  them,  if  any  harm  to  him 
could  unfold  itself  from  them.  Trevirano  should 
be  to  him  a  comrade,  to  accompany  him  in  the  glad 
enjoyment  of  life.  With  Emanuel  he  would  main- 
tain a  soul-understanding,  and  in  him  would  collect 
himself:  the  two  should  be  to  him  the  unity  of  that 
which  he  had  conceived  as  the  ideal  of  a  friend;  in 
these  two  should  the  double  demand  of  his  nature 
be  satisfied.  "  Thou  canst  not  form  the  least  idea," 
he  once  said  to  Trevirano,  for  it  was  a  way  he  had, 
that  he  must  forthwith  address  any  one  with  whom 
he  was  closely  associated  with  the  familiar  thou — 


DE  AMICITIA.  229 

"  Thou  canst  not  conceive  how  I  envy  thee  thy  un- 
broken spirits.  You  Christians  do  not  at  all  know 
what  a  happiness  you  enjoy  in  every  way.  Tlicse 
churches,  these  streets,  these  council-houses  and  halls 
of  jiistice  are  yours;  you  are  everywhere  at  home; 
the  officials  are  to  you  no  unapproachable  spectres, 
the  sabre-bearers  no  contemptuously  staring  insolent 
were-wolves;  they  are  your  fathers,  brothers,  un- 
cles; the  wide  open  world  is  your  family  home.  But 
a  Jew,  who  is  conscious  of  his  position,  and  I  have 
known  that  from  a  boy,  goes  cowering  round  with 
the  everlasting  question:  What  have  you  against 
me  ?  What  have  I  done  to  you  ?  He  imagines  that 
looks  and  glances  mean  him,  which  perhaps  have  no 
thought  of  him.  And  all  this  trembling,  with  the 
inward  consciousness  all  the  while  of  being  fit  for 
any  refined  human  society.  It  is  a  deadly  pain,  it 
eats  out  the  best  energy  of  life.  I  try  to  free  my- 
self and  to  mock  at  the  follies  of  the  world,  but  thy 
supreme  buoyancy,  thy  gay  and  careless  playing 
with  the  world,  is  something  I  can  never  reach.  I 
shall  forever  envy  thee." 

Trevirano  could  not  understand  what  so  tor- 
mented Ephraim;  he  knew  not  what  answer  to 
make,  except  to  disclose  to  Ephraim  all  the  secrets 
of  his  life,  his  present  trouble,  and  his  hopes.  For 
hardly  any  reason  save  to  make  some  response  to 
this,  Ephraim  gave  parallels  from  his  own  history, 
and  sought  thereby  to  manifest  his  sympathy  and 
his  intelligence;  but  soon  he  too  came  down  to  the 
present,  and  related  how  he  had  originally  come  to 


230  POET  AND  MER CHA NT. 

Berlin  to  contract  a  so-called  marriage  of  reason 
with  his  cousin  Zerlina,  but  how  the  majestic  pres- 
ence of  Kecha,  the  sister-in-law  of  Mendelssohn,  had 
made  so  deep  an  imiDression  upon  him;  hoAV  beside 
that  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  the  pale  chamberaiaid 
in  the  house  of  his  uncle;  how  it  was  property  his 
unalterable  purpose  not  to  fall  in  love  again  any 
more:  and  a  good  many  other  contradictions  of  the 
same  kind.  Suddenly  he  felt  how  disagreeable  it 
was  to  have  a  confidant.  If  he  had  already  feared 
that  by  the  abuse  of  his  experiences  to  the  purposes 
of  poetry  he  should  compromise  his  own  individu- 
ality, and  therefore  loved  to  represent  in  poems 
their  reverse  side,  he  now  saw  in  these  everlasting 
communications  to  his  comrade  the  last  intrench- 
ments  of  an  inner  individuality  give  way.  In  all  the 
disasters  of  life  he  had  hitherto  been  able  to  exclaim 
to  himself:  "Thou  hast  a  wealth  within  thee  which 
the  world  has  thus  far  neither  understood  nor  mis- 
understood;" but  now  he  had  no  still  and  secret 
consciousness  any  more  into  which  he  could  retreat 
at  the  loss  of  this  new  friend,  and  collect  himself 
within  himself;  if  he  lost  him  or  was  deceived  and 
betrayed  by  him,  he  had  lost  his  whole  man. 

That  is  the  profound  misery  of  skepticism,  that  it 
Bees  behind  every  ripening  friend,  death  lurking, 
and  willfully  casts  him  off,  only  for  the  sake  of  being 
able  to  say  to  himself:  I  foresaw  that  this  would 
come  of  it.  A  strong  mind  will  draw  back  in  self- 
satisfied  renunciation;  a  weak  one  will,  with  fear 
and  trembling,  set  its  foot  over  the  threshold  of  a 


DE  AMICITIA.  231 

new  relation,  and  not  even  enjoy  undisturbed  the 
short  pleasure  of  illusion.  Ephraiin  needed  an  at- 
tachment to  another,  and  yet  could  not  attach  him- 
self with  unreserved  surrender.  And  as  he  never- 
theless in  continued  confidence  imparted  to  his  new 
friend  thoughts  and  feelings  which  he  once  dared 
not  confess  even  to  himself,  he  not  only  lost  the 
inner  prosperity  and  virgin  intactness  of  thought 
and  sensibility,  living  in  secret  silence  within  him, 
but  confession  passed  over  into  his  life,  and  a  be- 
spoken sin  loses  often  the  terror  of  the  act.  Eph- 
raim  felt  also  his  moral  foundations  giving  way,  for 
his  friend's  principles  were  elastic  as  those  of  a  man 
of  the  world  always  are. 


16.— DE  AMORE. 

THE  Peace  of  Hubertsberg  was  followed  by  an 
intense  stir  and  activity  all  through  Germany, 
but  especially  in  Prussia  and  its  capital;  the  latter 
had  been,  in  comparison  with  the  other  cities,  but 
little  distressed  by  the  war,  and  its  awakened  ener- 
gies could  therefore  develop  themselves  the  more 
readily  in  their  organic  fullness.  It  was  as  when, 
after  tempestuous  weather,  the  sky  clears  up  again: 
fresh  blossom-dust  floats  from  trees  and  flowers, 
shaken  by  the  wind;  the  birds,  which  had  crept 
away  into  silence,  encourage  and  cheer  each  other 
with  their  songs  and  flutter  merrily  forth;  a  refresh- 
ing vapor  issues  from  the  drenched  earth;  brown 
torrents  gush  forth  here  and  there,  where  once  had 
been  a  dry  desert,  and  if  here  and  there  are  seen 
trees  and  flowers  bowed  down,  and  dams  broken 
through,  the  swifter  flow  of  sap  will  soon  replace 
what  is  lost,  under  the  direction  of  one  mighty  will. 
Even  during  the  war  had  begun  a  new  era  of  sci- 
ence and  poetry.  The  poetic  fraternities  in  Leipsic 
and  Gottingen  stirred  up  and  cultivated  new  life; 


^ 


DE  A  MORE.  X  230-, 

but,  above  all,  antiquity  was  to  celebrate  a  new  vcs- 
urrection.  Frederick  II.  was  called  now  Alexander, 
now  Cicsar,  now  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  the  whole 
01ymi)us  was  put  in  requisition  for  him  alone. 
Klopstock  was  to  be  a  new  Homer,  Lessing  a  Sopho- 
cles, Uz  and  Willamov  Pindar,  Kamler  Horace, 
Gessner  Theocritus,  Mendelssohn  Socrates,  Gellert 
yEsop,  Karsch  called  herself  Sappho,  Gleim  was 
Tyrtteus,  and  our  Ephraim  would  be  a  new  IMartial. 
Out  of  the  rich  stir  of  life  in  the  Seven  Years'  War 
Ephraim  had  reaped  no  poetic  spoils  but  two  epi- 
grams: 

TO  FREDERICK  II.  AFTER  THE  VICTORY  OF  LEUTHEN.* 

Too  many  godlike  deeds  thou  doest, 

Great  King!   'twere  well  if  this  thou  knewest; 

Hold  up!  thou  lessenest  thine  own  praise; 

Like  fables  from  the  classic  days, 

Which,  to  amuse  men,  poets  told  them, 

Posterity  will,  else,  behold  them. 

hippocrene;  in  German,  RossBACH.t 
At   Rossbach,  French,  ye   dreamed,    victory  your   arms  would 

follow  ? 
At  his  own  fountain-head  ne'er  could  succumb  Apollo ! 

The  massive  life  of  state  and  nation  was  too 
mighty  for  the  pretty  play  of  wit  in  epigrams  and 
concetti;  he  now  fastened  his  satires  to  the  thousand 
little  threads  and  knots  of  which  social  life  is  con- 
stituted. Still,  after  all,  his  nature  was  more  an  el- 
egiacal  and  lyrical  one,  and  well  might  he  say  of 
himself : 

*Dec.  5,  1757- 

tin  English  "Horse-pond."     (Coleridge's  School-master.) 


234  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

* '  Wherefore,  O  Sybarite, 
My  epigram  defame? 
The  glass  is  not  to  blame 
For  what  it  brings  to  light." 

It  was  more  a  kind  of  extraneous  or  exotic  raillery 
W'hicli,  like  a  bee,  he  imported  into  the  carefully  ar- 
ranged cells  of  his  verse;  in  connection  with  all  in- 
cidents and  conversations  he  made  a  note  for  him- 
self, in  order  not  to  let  them  slip  out  of  his  memory. 

One  will  very  frequently  find  among  the  Jews  wits 
and  witlings,  more  frequently  among  the  men,  sel- 
domer  among  the  women.  Wit  is  that  form  of  intel- 
lect in  which  blank  coins  of  thought  are  the  most 
rapidly  stamped,  and  with  their  easily  recognized 
nominal  value  are  most  speedily  set  in  circulation. 
With  these  lively  minds,  not  yet  drilled  in  by  any 
regular  school-training,  it  must  needs  spring  up  all 
the  more  briskly;  add  to  this  their  peculiar  jargon, 
bristling  with  Hebraisms,  with  its  capricious  accents, 
the  confusion  and  dilution  of  different  forms  of 
speech,  giving  easy  occasion  often  for  the  most  com- 
ical plays  upon  words.  When  we  consider  further, 
that  the  new  culture  was  mostly  based  upon  Tal- 
mudic  dialectics,  that  wit  is  a  successful  weapon  in 
the  outpost  skirmishes  against  insipidity  and  hollow 
ceremonies,  and  that  a  certain  Voltairianism  had 
also  penetrated  into  the  deeper  minds,  we  have  the 
elements  of  that  intellectual  epoch  of  Jewish  his- 
tory from  which  our  fathers  and  grandfathers  can 
report  to  us  so  many  keen  specimens  of  play  ou 
words  and  surprising  turns  of  thought. 


DE  A  MO  RE.  235 

Nothing  is  so  contagious  as  wit;  as  its  effect, 
laughter,  easily  and  involuntarily  transmits  itself 
from  one  to  another.  So  does  its  cause,  tlie  inner 
mood,  easily  become  a  common  condition;  each  out- 
bids the  other  in  crazy  hide-and-seek;  an  application 
which,  on  sober  reflection,  were  meaningless  and  al- 
most absurd,  becomes  in  the  whirl  of  hilarity  a  hap- 
py hit  and  is  crowned  with  universal  plaudits.  In 
this  new  intellectual  atmosphere  Ephraim  drank  in 
its  characteristic  element;  he  soon  passed,  in  the  Ber- 
lin congregation,  for  one  of  the  cleverest,  that  is, 
wittiest,  heads,  for  Abraham  Diogenes  had  said: 
"There  is  a  whole  cow's*  hide  full  of  art  in  his 
skin." 

Ephraim  now  went  on  his  way  radiant  and  smil- 
ing; he  was  conscious  of  his  superior  understanding, 
and  as,  in  the  days  of  his  childhood,  he  had  dared  to 
lay  hold  of  bodily  suicide  as  a  weapon  against  life, 
so  now  he  had  a  new  weapon,  but  was  it  not  that  of 
spiritual  suicide,  which,  for  a  momentary  show,  wil- 
lingly sacrifices  and  perverts  into  their  opposite  the 
deepest  emotions? 

In  his  own  eyes  he  seemed  to  himself  so  flat  and 
stale,  for  it  takes  two  to  make  a  laugh;  in  solitude 
he  was  sad  and  melancholy;  it  was  like  the  breath- 
ing out  of  a  sigh  for  the  excitement  of  laughter;  he 
laid  the  blame  of  this,  again,  at  the  door  of  his  mer- 
cantile sorrows;  so  soon  as  possible  he  meant  to  close 
the  account  with  this  false  relation  of  his. 

"I  often  wonder,"  Ephraim  once  said  to  Trevirano, 

*  Alluding  to  his  name. 


236  POE  T  A ND  MER  CIIA NT. 

"  when  I  get  up  in  the  morning,  that  I  can  walk,  can 
speak,  that  I  know  tliousands  of  things;  I  always 
feel  as  if  I  must  begin  my  whole  being  over  again; 
my  life  crumbles  to  pieces.  What  is  there,  then, 
that  can  or  should  hold  me  together  any  longer?" 

His  friend  ridiculed  him  for  such  splenetic  whim- 
seys,  but  all  that  did  not  set  him  free.  When  he 
woke  in  the  morning  he  asked  himself:  Why  do  I 
get  up?  To  work.  And  why  work?  To  get 
money?  And  why  money?  To  live. — Untired. 
life,  that  devours  itself ! 

While  others,  with  purely  intellectual  occupations, 
often  long  for  that  which  shall  by  outward  evi- 
dences manifest  itself  as  action,  Ephraim  felt  the 
opposite  longing,  forgetting  the  while,  as  they  do, 
that  in  either  case,  not  the  thing  accomplished,  but 
the  pleasure  taken  in  activity,  as  an  expression  of 
life,  is  the  true  life  itself,  and  that  the  happiness  of 
life  is  only  the  demonstration  of  power  and  its  rela- 
tion to  others,  or  in  other  words,  the  fulfillment  of 
duty. 

Ephraim  was  now  entangled  in  a  new  love  affair. 
Fi'om  his  confessions  to  Trevirano  we  have  seen  that 
Recha,  the  sister-in-law  of  Mendelssolm,  had  made 
a  deep  impression  upon  him.  Relying  upon  the 
coolness  of  his  judgment,  he  gave  himself  up  unre- 
servedly to  friendly  intercourse  with  Recha;  he 
buried,  his  gaze  in  the  still  glow  of  her  black  eyes, 
he  contemplated  the  quiet,  tranquil  beauty  of 
her  features,  and  the  rich  fullness  of  outline,  and 
delighted  in  the  luxuriance  of  the  tresses  which  in 


DE  A  MORE.  237 

soft  ringlets  floated  over  her  whole  head.  He  trust- 
ed all  tlie  more  to  his  self-control,  that  many  things 
about  Kecha  displeased  him;  the  drawing  of  her 
eyebrows,  which  vanished  almost  at  the  middle  of 
the  eye,  the  marked  projection  of  her  lower  lip,  and 
particularly  a  crack  which  she  seemed  to  have  in  her 
organ  of  speech,  whereby  all  sound  came  out  as  if 
shredded,  he  found  great  fault  with.  For  his  fre- 
quent visits,  meanwhile,  he  made  this  excuse  to  him- 
self, that  he  sought  the  company  and  conversation 
of  the  philosopher;  by -and -by,  hoAvever,  he  would 
go  to  Mendelssohn's  house  even  when  he  knew  that 
the  philosopher  was  at  that  very  moment  busy  in  his 
counting-house;  by  degrees  he  forgot  his  former 
criticisms  altogether.  How  his  heart  beat  and  his 
breath  trembled,  as  he  thought  of  the  hour  when  he 
should  appear  before  Mendelssohn  to  ask  of  him  the 
hand  of  his  sister-in-law,  embrace  him  as  brother 
and  then  kiss  the  trembling  Yes  from  Recha's  lips; 
in  what  brilliant  colors  he  painted  to  himself  his 
future  life,  fresh  and  fiery  activity  coupled  with 
thoughtf ulness  and  tender  sincerity.  Full  of  impa- 
tience and  internal  excitement  he  paced  up  and 
down  alone  in  his  chamber  whenever  the  gracious 
images  of  such  a  future  rose  more  and  more  distinct 
and  definite  before  his  inner  eye. 

This,  now,  it  was,  that  held  him  fast  again  to  the 
mercantile  desk;  for  his  own  daily  necessities  his 
means  were  adequate,  but  for  the  support  of  a  fami- 
ly he  needed  a  steady  income.  "Love's  bliss  is 
higher  than  poet's  bliss,"  he  said  to  himself;  "nay 


238  POET  AND  MERCHANT 

it  is  the  highest;  a  father's  joy  in  fine  children  is 
more  enduring  than  in  his  poetic  offspring;"  and  he 
attached  himself  more  and  more  ardently  to  Recha. 

The  solid  and  independent  nature  of  llecha  exer- 
cised a  refreshing  influence,  and  one  blessed  with  a 
thousand  quiet  joys,  upon  Ephraim.  Here,  for  the 
first  time,  he  recognized  that  it  was  not  the  essence 
of  womanhood  to  be  a  soft  echo  of  the  stronger 
mind,  but  in  its  own  original  form  to  apprehend  and 
organize  the  relations  of  life;  he  could  here  no 
longer  oracularly  pronounce  and  like  a  fast-day 
preacher  give  admonitory  lectures  on  the  perversities 
of  the  uncultured,  as  with  Philippina  and  Taubchen. 
With  sound  and  uncorrupted  glance,  Recha  saw 
through  what  was  presented  to  her,  and  compelled 
the  giver  to  a  closer  insight  into  himself  and  others. 
He  felt  himself  thereby  uplifted  and  invigorated; 
the  slumbering  productive  power  stirred  itself  in  his 
soul,  and  soon  was  a  new  spring-time  of  love  to  arise 
in  full-blooming  splendor. 

The  subject  of  conversation  with  Recha  was 
mostly  the  affairs  of  the  Jews  and  the  enlightenment 
of  the  age.  On  one  occasion  they  spoke  of  the  re- 
markable incidents,  which  often,  like  a  lightning- 
flash,  loosed  the  fetters  of  free  consciousness.  Eph- 
raim told  about  his  Polish  Rabbi,  and  how  he  him- 
self, exhausted  with  his  soul's  conflicts,  had  fallen 
asleep  on  his  bosom.  Recha's  countenance  lighted 
up  as  she  listened;  in  Ephraim's  voice  and  look  was 
such  a  tender  sincerity  and  sadness,  Recha  miglit 
well  feel  how  gladly  he  resuscitated  his  whole  past 


DE  A  MO  RE.  239 

before  her,  in  order  to  lay  not  only  his  present 
being,  but  also  his  vanished  past  on  her  heart;  he 
spoke  of  the  spirit  of  freedom  and  meant  the  spirit 
of  love;  he  spoke  of  the  hand  which  the  Rabbi  had 
laid  upon  his  forehead,  and  thought  of  the  hand  of 
Kecha  which,  with  a  soft  touch,  was  to  quiet  the 
feverish  pulses  of  his  tt  robbing  temples. 

"Ah,  how  charming  !"  said  Kecha,  when  Ephraim 
had  ended,  and  looked  on  him,  as  she  spoke,  with  an 
eye  full  of  loving  sweetness,  till  he  felt  a  blissful 
shudder  thrill  through  his  whole  being;  he  passed 
his  hand  across  his  face,  his  cheeks  burned;  how 
gladly  would  he  have  kissed  the  sweet  "charming" 
from  her  lips  and  folded  her  forever  in  his  arms,  but 
he  restrained  himself,  for  he  dreaded  the  presence 
of  the  sister,  and  no  mortal  eye  but  that  of  his  be- 
loved should  see  how  he  infolded  her  into  the 
paradise  of  his  soul.  He  soon  took  his  leave,  and 
Recha  mused  much  upon  this  sudden  withdrawal. 

In  the  street  Ephraim  kept  repeating  to  himself 
the  words:  "Ah,  how  charming!  ah,  how  charm- 
ing ! "  and  dreamed  himself  the  while  into  such  a 
mood  of  bliss  and  freedom,  that  he  was  almost  com- 
pelled to  shout  for  joy;  he  ran  swiftly  through  the 
streets,  that  no  one  meeting  him  might  wake  him 
out  of  his  rapture.  All  the  sweet  dreams  and  pre- 
sentiments which  he  imagined  had  long  since  died 
out  with  him,  erected  their  heads  again  like  flowers 
on  their  stems,  fresh  and  free;  no  frost  of  doubt 
could  settle  again  on  the  newly  opened  flowers. 
"  When  I  am  so  wholly  dissolved  in  love,"  he  said  to 


240  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

himself,  "  must  not  reciprocal  love  be  to  me  the  full- 
est satisfaction?  How  childish,  indeed,  was  that 
which  I  had  hitherto  taken  for  love;  she,  she  loves 
me,  ah,  how  dearly ! "  No  one  in  the  house  could 
guess  why  Ephraim  was  so  gay,  and  as  the  treasure- 
digger  must,  with  mute  lips,  lift  the  gold  out  of  the 
earth,  so  Ephraim  fancied  that  by  even  a  sound  he 
should  cause  all  the  sweet  enchantment  suddenly  to 
disappear.  Only  with  pain  did  he  conceal  this  new 
turn  in  his  life  from  the  good  Emanuel;  he  was 
sensible  that  he  hereby  almost  forfeited  his  friend- 
ship, but  he  also  felt  that  another  might  perhaps 
smile  at  his  enthusiasm  and  so  brush  off  the  tender- 
est  enamel  of  the  flower.  He  kept  silent.  Often, 
too,  he  longed  to  know  what  misfortune  would  now 
befall  him,  for  he  knew  the  might  of  the  envious 
gods,  who  suffer  no  fortune  to  continue  unalloyed, 
and  into  the  midst  of  the  clearest  day  send  a  hail- 
shower;  therefore,  he  always  pictured  to  himself, 
when  he  went  home  with  a  bosom  swelling  with  joy, 
some  misfortune  or  other,  which  might  come  upon 
him.  He  knew  not  what  he  feared,  but  he  feared, 
and  that  was  enough. 

Ephraim  could  never  speak  with  Recha  alone, 
there  was  always  either  her  sister  or  a  friend  present 
with  her,  and  most  of  all  did  he  feel  himself  embar- 
rassed by  tlie  presence  of  his  cousin  Zerlina.  Never- 
theless, he  had  the  most  confidential  interviews  with 
Recha,  when  he  went  to  walk  alone  or  when  he  rest- 
ed alone  on  his  couch.  What  sweet  w^ords  he  then 
exchanged  with  her,  and  how  glittered  everywhere 


DE  AMORE.  241 

the  lenderest  pearls  of  dew  in  the  variegated  blos- 
som-cups !  Often,  too,  he  fixed  these  moments  in 
poems,  but  as  if  he  feared  to  betray  her  name  to 
paper,  he  celebrated  her  with  all  sorts  of  strange 
names;  all,  however,  pointed  to  her: 

"Among  all  Flora's  children  fair, 
In  wood  and  mead  and  vale  I  culled  for  thee  the  rarest ; 
But,  Chloe,  look  not  in  the  glass,  I  pray,  my  fairest ! 
Else  thou  for  them  no  more  wilt  care." 

"Will  my  Amelia  bless  me,  say,  ye  eyes! 
No,  tell  me  not,  ye  lovely  eyes,  I  pray! 
Hell-pains  will  kill  me,  if  ye  answer,  Nay! 
If  Yea,  with  ecstasy  your  victim  dies !  " 

One  must  not  forget,  too,  that  these  poems 
originated  at  that  time,  when,  after  the  lays  of  the 
minne-singers  had  long  died  away,  woman's  love 
could  not  yet  be  celebrated  in  song.  They  sang 
friendship  and  virtue,  nature  and  joy,  but  purely 
personal  feeling  could  not  venture  to  express  itself 
in  melodious  words,  till  Klopstock  first,  in  lofty 
strains,  publislied  his  love  to  the  world. 

We  find  Ephraim  truer  and  nearer  to  his  proper 
individuality,  in  the  two  following  poems: 

"Thou'rt  silent,  sweet,  bewitching  face! 
And  yet  I  know  full  well  what  aileth  thee; 
Love's  very  silence  speaks  more  potently, 
Mirena,  than  all  Suada's  words  of  grace." 

"Heaven's  wrath  shall  cruelty  be  reaping! 
By  day  flies  from  me  Saccharissa, 
And  that  in  dreams  I  cannot  kiss  her, 
Prevents  me  all  night  long  from  sleeping." 

Ephraim  felt  the  inadequacy  of  such  verses,  mere- 
16 


242  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

ly  jDointed  to  a  neatly  turned  conclusion.  But  what 
cared  he  now  for  the  worth  of  his  poems  ?  Did  not 
love  dwelling  within  him  penetrate  with  an  inner  glow 
all  his  dreamings  and  his  doings?  How  often  and 
with  what  joy  did  he  read  the  sonnets  of  Petrarch, 
the  singer  of  love;  the  thousand  songs  which  he  felt 
out,  no  sound  nor  sign  of  them  remains.  He  re- 
nounced the  thought  of  ever  arriving  at  a  full  repre- 
sentation of  his  very  self;  what  of  tender  perception, 
of  susceptibility  to  the  softer  emotions  of  the  spirit 
possessed  hira;  in  a  word  what  of  poesy  lived  within 
him,  he  would  pour  into  the  cup  of  love  and  dedicate 
it  to  her,  that  it  might  remain  forever  a  fresh  love- 
draught.  Poetry  sliould  be  to  him  only  sport  and 
jest;  in  love  his  existence  had  fulhlled  its  end;  he 
felt  that  he  ha4  found  the  bond  of  unison  between 
love  and  poetry  in  subordinating  and  sacrificing  the 
one  to  the  other. 

All  this  and  a  great  deal  else  he  had  talked  over 
in  a  hundredfold  ways  with  liecha;  she  understood 
him  so  perfectly  and  almost  never  contradicted  him; 
for  Ephraim  regarded  his  internal  soliloquies  as  a 
dialogue  with  Recha;  he  fancied  that  she  must  needs 
have  become  as  much  wrapped  up  in  his  spirit  as  he 
lived  in  her.  For  that  very  reason  he  was  almost 
always  out  of  humor  and  irritated;  when  he  met  with 
liecha,  he  hoped  for  a  confidential  continuation  of 
the  dialogues  whicli  he  had  fondly  carried  on  with 
her  in  his  inner  man,  and  she  asked  him  about  the 
events  of  the  day,  or  she  sought,  as  formerly,  to  en- 
rich her  knowledge  and  her  intellect  by  his  couver- 


DE  A  MO  RE.  243 

sation.  Tlecha  spoke  often  and  with  delight  of  the 
writings  of  the  men  who  went  out  and  in  at  Men- 
delssohn's house,  and  that  with  a  modesty  which 
disclaimed,  and  yet  could  not  help  clearly  revealing, 
the  silent  interest  she  took  therein.  Particularly  of 
the  writings  of  her  "  honored  brother-in-law "  she 
loved  to  speak  as  of  the  children  of  the  house,  whose 
mother,  indeed,  she  was  not,  but  whom  she  nursed 
and  tended.  Of  the  announcements  for  the  next 
Michaelmas  fair  she  spoke  almost  as  one  would  of 
gathered  and  j^reserved  fruits,  which  one  is  already 
beginning  to  consume,  and  she  knew  its  preparation 
and  progress. 

Ephraim  saw  in  all  this  only  the  intellectual  ani- 
mation of  Recha,  which  all  the  time  stimulated  to 
wakeful  alertness.  He  gladly  followed  her  in  all 
discussions. 

Did  she  never  dream  of  what  passed  between 
them,  and  had  he  deceived  himself  so  infinitely  ?  He 
could  not  believe  it;  no,  it  was  only  a  playful  teasing 
and  ingenious  concealment  of  her  inner  being,  when 
she  threw  out  to  him,  as  so  many  toys,  extraneous 
matters  which  had  no  bearing  upon  their  real  rela- 
tion; she  certainly  loved  him — that  was  written  in 
her  eyes,wliich  looked  down  upon  him  so  tenderly. 

Zerlina,  Ei)hraim's  cousin,  remarked  his  inclination 
almost  sooner  than  he  did  himself;  for  the  out- 
side spectator  can  more  easily  distinguish  where 
general  social  references  pass  over  into  personal 
ones,  whence  it  often  happens  that  the  lover  is  sur- 
prised at  finding  his  secret   recognized  by  others 


244  POE T  AND  MERCHANT. 

Booner  than  by  himself.  Zwlina  was  a  friend  of 
Recha's;  she  visited  her  at  least  twice  a  week,  on 
parade-day,  as  well  to  enjoy  her  society,  as  for  the 
sake  of  seeing,  on  the  long  way  to  the  house,  her 
fine  figure,  her  little  foot  and  her  tasteful  toilet  ad- 
mired by  the  gaping  multitude;  not  seldom,  also, 
had  she  a  roll  of  notes  in  her  hand,  and  Abraham 
Reckoner  said :  "  She  meant  thereby  to  notify  peo- 
l^le  of  her  musical  culture."  Zerlina  often  gave  her 
cousin  commissions  and  compliments  to  Recha.  On 
the  whole  she  deported  herself  as  if  it  were  a  matter 
of  course  that  she  understood  the  whole  situation. 
Ephraim  accepted  all  without  remonstrance;  the  gay 
and  childlike  disposition  of  his  cousin  delighted  him 
greatly.  If  he  had  formerly  approached  her  only 
with  discomfort,  because  she  had  been  destined  for 
him  by  his  uncle,  the  mutual  complacency  now  dawn- 
ing between  them  in  a  new  point  of  view,  gradually 
led  to  a  certain  brotherly  and  sisterly  familiarity,  nay 
friendship  between  cousin  and  cousin,  in  which  still 
a  polite  attention  is  enough  to  distinguish  it  from 
the  friendship  proper  of  men  and  from  the  love  of 
brothers  and  sisters.  Ephraim  behaved  towards  his 
cousin  as  if  he  lived  in  the  most  blessed  state  of 
mutual  understanding  with  Recha,  and  was  only 
sometimes  disturbed  by  little  ii-ritations;  he  made 
this  confession  with  inward  trembling,  and  only 
upon  the  promise  of  the  strictest  secrecy,  for  he 
knew  how  he  hereby  destroyed  every  bridge  for  his 
retreat,  but  could  he  have  helped  being  ashamed  to 
confess  the  truth  that  he  had  surrendered  so  at  discre- 


DE  A  MORE.  245 

tion  ?  Ephraira  even  went  so  far  as  to  beg  his  cousin 
to  invite  Kecha  to  meet  her  in  her  father's  garden, 
which  lay  before  the  Brandenburgh  gate;  he  hoped 
here  or  on  the  way  home  to  come  to  an  understand- 
ing with  Recha;  he  would  not  any  longer  content 
himself  with  the  sweet  game  of  "  loves  me — loves  me 
not,"  he  must  have  speedy  and  reliable  assurance. 
Recha  came,  and  with  her  Fran  Mendelssohn.  Eph- 
raim  saw,  here  in  the  garden  for  the  first  time,  his 
beloved  in  a  light  and  bright  summer  dress  under 
trees  and  on  the  lawn;  she  appeared  to  him  like  a 
new  creature;  a  fresh  breath  of  spring  rested  on  her 
countenance;  the  soft  and  full  outlines  of  her  lovely 
form  flowed  all  the  more  sweetly  under  the  light 
veil;  she  was  to  him  as  one  new-born.  He  gazed 
upon  her  with  a  look  full  of  love  and  ardent  desire, 
but  she  looked  thoughtfully  to  the  ground  and  dug 
Tsdth  the  point  of  her  foot  a  little  hole  in  the  sand. 
Frau  Mendelssohn  reported  with  rapture  the  news 
of  the  arrival  of  her  husband's  friend,  the  Secretary 
Lessing;  in  her  picturing  of  the  amiableness  and  gay 
humor  of  his  manner,  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  ab- 
solutely find  no  last  word. 

"  How  dost  thou  like  him,  Recha  ?  "  asked  Zerlina, 
as  she  stood  behind  her  friend  and  placed  a  bloom- 
ing twig  of  syringa  in  her  hand. 

"I?"  said  Recha,  lifting  up  her  blushing  face, 
"  very  well,  but  I  have  not  yet  spoken  with  him." 

"Heigh!  what  a  cat's-memory  thou  hast,"  said 
Frau  ^lendelssohn;  "did  he  not  beg  permission  to 
steal  thy  name  from  thee,  and  baptize  with  it  a  child 
of  his  muse  ?  " 


246  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"Do  you  hear — a  m^Vraemory ? "  said  Ephraim, 
laughing  immoderately.  He  fancied  he  had  con- 
cealed his  easily  provoked  jealousy.  All  looked  at 
each  other. 

The  conversation  would  not  flow  on  easily,  and 
Zerlina  told  about  the  handsome  wedding-clothes 
which  her  future  sister-in-law  was  having  made. 
They  came  unexpectedly  upon  the  subject  of  the 
happiness  it  is  when  two  married  people  love  each 
other  so  devotedly. 

"  I  know  not  for  the  life  of  me  how  one  can  help 
being  happy  with  a  husband,"  said  Zerlina;  "one 
does  what  he  likes,  and  so  he,  too,  will  do  in  his  turn 
what  pleases  me." 

Recha  embraced  Zerlina,  kissed  her  and  praised 
her  happy  disposition.  She  then  talked  with  Ephra- 
im about  7ia'lvete^  and  how  beautifully  it  idealized 
everything  when  the  understanding  only  sees  cari- 
catures. Ephraim  did  not  succeed  in  bringing  his 
heart's  affairs  to  a  decision,  especially  as  still  other 
company  arrived. 

They  separated  in  bad  humor.  Ephraim  went 
home  to  send  Recha  his  Petrarch  which  she  had 
asked  him  for.  "  If  she  does  not  love  me,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  with  the  same  fast  and  fervent  love  with 
which  I  am  drawn  to  her,  she  is  not  worthy  of 
my  love;  I  must  cast  her  from  me,  as  a  piece  of 
glittering  glass  which  I  had  mistaken  and  laid  up 
for  a  diamond;  what  is  more  despicable  than  a  lover 
without  reciprocated  love  ?  out  of  self-respect  I  must 
tear  her  from  my  heart— but  does  she  not  love  me 


DE  A  MORE.  247 

then  ?  " — He  could  not  rescue  himself  from  the  soph- 
istry of  the  heart. 

When  he  reached  home,  he  found  his  chamber 
open;  through  the  half  open  door  of  his  side  chamber 
he  saw  Matilda,  the  pale  handsome  chambermaid, 
standing  before  the  book-case  and  reading  a  book; 
he  had  often  surprised  her  at  this  occupation;  a 
tender  relation  had  grown  out  of  it,  for  Ephraim 
recognized  in  Matilda  a  strong  propensity  for  poet- 
ical enjoyments;  he  often  gave  her  books  and  talked 
with  her  about  them,  but  he  was  compelled  to  find 
that  Matilda  drew  from  them  only  food  for  her 
sorrow;  if  she  read  of  gilded  princesses  and  flower- 
crowned  shepherdesses,  she  sighed  still  more  over 
her  fate,  which  had  given  her  so  dark  and  dreary  a 
childhood,  and  which,  when  it  freed  her,  left  her  to 
become  a  servant-maid.  Ephraim  knew  her  history 
only  superficially,  that  she  was  the  child  of  a  wander- 
ing beggar,  who  had  fled  without  leaving  any  trace 
of  him  and  had  left  w^ife  and  children  behind  in 
Berlin;  from  sympathy  and  because  she  was  a  dis- 
tant relation,  Veitel  had  yielded  to  the  urgent  en- 
treaties of  his  daughter  Zerlina  and  taken  the  child 
into  his  house.  Matilda  never  loved  to  speak  of  her 
youth,  and  particularly  Avould  never  confess  how^  she 
came  to  have  that  broad  scar  on  her  forehead. 
Zerlina  gave  her  new  playmate  (for  so  she  regarded 
Matilda)  instruction  in  reading  and  writing,  and 
Matilda,  who  possessed  a  ready  aptness  for  all  things, 
learned  with  astonishing  rapidity,  so  that  Zerlina 
soon  had  the  pleasure  of  lending  her  all  the  books 


248  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

wliich  she  herself  read.  ^Tatlkla  everywhere  read 
her  own  evil  fate  between  the  lines,  for  everywhere 
she  found  it  indicated  how  happily  other  people 
lived.  There  was  nothing  she  wished  on  earth  but 
to  be  a  shepherdess;  when  the  sun  rose,  she  would 
sally  forth  with  her  sheep;  at  noon  she  would  lie  be- 
side the  fountain  and  enjoy  her  bread  with  a  fresh 
draught,  and  when  the  evening  bell  tolled,  she  would 
come  home,  crowned  with  flowers;  ah!  and  then,  if 
a  Daphnis  met  her, — she  blushed  at  the  thought,  and 
her  heart  beat  faster.  Ephraim  knew  well  why 
Matilda,  when  she  had  to  hand  round  the  meats  at 
the  table,  shut  her  eyes  with  shame,  and  why  in  all 
the  motions  of  her  fine  figure  sadness  and  melancholy 
expressed  themselves;  Veitel  named  her  nothing  but 
*'  the  disguised  Countess  of  Have-naught."  Had 
Ephraim  found  Matilda  at  the  time  when  he  met  with 
Philippina,  he  would  have  fallen  enthusiastically  in 
love  with  her;  now  he  could  only  gather  up  for  her 
the  crumbs  of  a  dish  long  since  consumed.  But 
Matilda  saw  that  he  comprehended  her  sorrow,  and 
loved  him  with  all  her  soul.  Now  when  he  saw  her 
again  before  the  book-case,  as  she  with  a  down-cast 
face  repeated  over  in  a  low  tone  with  her  pale  lips 
every  word  she  read,  he  crept  up  to  her  on  his  toes 
and  would  have  clasped  her  hand. 

"Please  not,"  said  Matilda;  "it  is  too  rough  from 
labor;  but  tell  me,  why  have  you  never  confessed  to 
me  that  you  were  in  love  with  llecha  Guggen- 
heimer?  If  you  are  only  as  happy  as  you  deserve 
to  be,  and  Recha  loves  you  sincerely,  then  if  it  were 


DE  A  MORE.  249 

proper,  I  could  go  and  say  to  her  how  dear  and 
good  you  are,  that  she  too  may  rightly  know  what  a 
treasure  she  has  in  you;  I  could  be  maid  to  your 
wife  and  serve  her  with  pleasure  because  she  made 
you  so  happy,  and  if  you  had  children,  I  would  nurse 
and  tend  them  like  a  mother  " 

"  O  thou  heavenly  sweet  girl,"  cried  Ephraim,  and 
kissed  her  coarse  hand,  which  she  drew  back  with 
shame  and  hid  under  her  apron.  Ephraim  could  not 
set  forth  to  Matilda  his  relation  to  Kecha,  nor  did  he 
combat  her  own  so  deeply  expressed  affection.  "  This 
is,  indeed,  the  only  foothold  on  the  quaking  ground 
of  her  existence,"  he  said  to  himself;  "I  dare  not 
rob  her  of  it;  on  this  noble  self-delusion  she  climbs 
and  clings,  let  her  do  so!"  She  now  told  him  how 
much  attached  to  him  old  Emanuel  also  was,  and 
how  they  often  chatted  together  about  him.  "  Yes," 
said  she,  "  I  think  too  much  of  you  all  the  time;  that 
is  not  good,  I  know  very  well,  but  can  I  help  it? 
At  night  when  old  Emanuel  plays  the  violin  so 
mournfully,  I  often  lie  for  hours  at  my  open  garret- 
window,  and  listen,  and  look  up  at  the  stars  that 
glisten  so  lovely.  Ah !  I  then  often  say  to  myself, 
one  day  when  thou  shalt  see  him  no  more,  these  stars 
T\dll  still  continue  to  shine  over  thee,  and  so  often  as 
thou  seest  them  thou  wilt  think  of  him  and  pray  for 
him." 

Her  bosom  heaved  more  rapidly,  her  voice  trem- 
bled. "  Ilark  !  "  she  suddenly  interrupted  herself, 
"I  hear  the  door-bell;  mistress  is  coming  back  from 
the  garden.     Farewell,  now,  I  must  go  down,  but 


250  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

you — be  right  glad  and  happy."  With  these  words 
she  slipped  owX  through  the  door,  and  made  a  forced 
face  of  playful  archness. 

Ephraira  smiled  sadly  at  the  fearful  irony  of  fate, 
which  sent  him  yonder  in  search  of  love,  restless  and 
in  uncertain  paths,  and  let  him  find  such  love  here 
without  his  seeking  it,  and  that  he  must  receive 
merely  as  if  in  compassion  all  the  golden  treasures 
of  a  heartfelt  affection. 


17._P00R  SOULS. 

EPHRAIM  had  almost  forgotten  that  he  was  not 
properly  a  stranger  hi  Berlin,  that  in  fact  his 
dearest  relative,  his  sister  Yiolet,  lived  there;  but 
this  was  once  for  all  his  peculiar  way,  always  to  seek 
what  belonged  to  him  among  foreign  elements,  and 
there,  where  it  lay  near  him,  not  to  recognize  it.  As 
the  often  deceptive  resemblance  of  our  features  to 
those  of  others  cannot  be  perceived  by  ourselves,  but 
only  by  third  persons,  so  Ephraim  did  not  see  that 
his  own  nature,  both  in  form  and  in  spirit,  was  re- 
peated in  a  female  way  in  his  sister.  She  appeared 
to  him  too  effeminate  and  morbid,  and  therefore  he 
neglected  her  in  an  unseemly  manner;  hardly  any- 
thing but  his  ill-humor  did  he  transfer  to  her  and 
then  let  it  have  its  way,  and  he  was  vexed  that  she  did 
not  give  him  pleasure  in  return,  nay  that  she  even, 
herself,  claimed  sympathy. 

It  is  a  wide -spread  and  yet  in  many  ways  false 
maxim,  that  partners  in  sorrow  are  a  comfort  to 
each  other;  we  should  rather  say,  there  are  peculiar 
natures,  and  in  all  at  times  special  moods,  to  which 


252  POET  AND  MERC  HA  N^^. 

another's  sorrow  is  inconvenient  and  vexatious,  es- 
pecially when  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  for  it. 
Ephraim  was  almost  angry  with  his  sister  for  being 
unhappy. 

In  this  frame  he  now  went  to  see  her  again.  Vio- 
let^had  received  news  from  home;  she  told  him,  as 
a  preparation,  that  Philippina  had  become  the  bride 
of  a  capital  man,  named  Ries. 

*'  I  congratulate  him,"  said  Ephraim,  laughing. 

"Even  when  she  was  a  child,  I  prophesied  to  her 
that  she  would  be  fortunate,"  added  Violet;  "she 
has  so  much  careless  gayety,  and  such  people  are  al- 
ways happy." 

"Happy  ! "  echoed.Ephraira,  "  happy!  What  dost 
thou  know  of  happiness  ?  When  any  one  has  thrown 
himself  into  the  water  with  a  stone  round  his  neck, 
and  the  rope  to  which  the  stone  is  attached  does  not 
break,  call  him  happy,  no  one  else.  Wast  thou  ever 
once  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  truly  say,  I  have  been,  and  I  fancied 
I  should  be  able  to  live  on  the  remembrance  of  that 
happiness  all  my  days.  Thousands  of  times  1  re- 
peated those  blessed  moments  and  lived  them  over 
again  perfectly,  but  unhappily  I  had  to  learn  that 
the  present  claims  its  dues.  Does  the  cold  make 
our  teeth  chatter  any  the  less  because  in  the  midst 
of  ice  and  snow  we  can  remember  a  mild  spring 
day  ?  The  remembrance  of  that  happiness,  conjured 
up  a  hundred  times,  became  a  pale  spectre,  a  reality 
interwoven  with  dreams,  in  which  I  knew  no  longer 
what  was  truth  and  what  was  dream.     Alas !  I  am 


POOR  SOULS.  253 

too  weak,  not  even  the  bare  recollection  could  I 
grasp  if  I  stretched  my  hand  after  it." 

"  Thou  art  right,"  added  Ephraim,  in  wild  mock- 
ery; "whoso  feeds  upon  memory,  upon  the  carcass 
of  the  past,  may  live  to  be  a  hundred  or  die  at  once, 
it  is  all  the  same.  But  fresh  life  is  a  beast  of  prey, 
it  requires  all  the  time  fresh  life,  which  it  may 
strangle  and  devour." 

Violet  was  used  to  have  her  brother  fly  out  into 
all  sorts  of  extravagances;  she  let  him  have  his  way 
and  now  only  led  him  back  gently  by  saying:  "Ah  ! 
I  should  be  much  happier  if  I  had  a  faith  to  which 
I  could  make  a  pilgrimage.  I  would  I  were  a 
Catholic  and  could  find  rest  in  believing — I  would 
not  have  been  a  Protestant,  like  our  brother  Na- 
than." 

"Nathan?" 

"  Yes,  he  has  married  a  young  widow  of  an  official 
from  Brieg,  and  has  gone  over  to  the  Protestant 
church." 

"I  congratulate  him,  too;  Nathan  believes  neither 
in  wedded  bliss  nor  in  Christianity,  therefore  he  has 
done  right  to  put  his  neck  into  both  yokes." 

"Thou,  too,  hast  the  bad  habit  of  the  people  in 
this  place  to  snap  the  fingers  at  everything  in  a  wit- 
ticism. I  confess  that,  after  all,  the  defection  of 
our  brother  troubles  me  sorely;  he  has  cut  himself 
loose  from  us,  from  our  sorrows  and  our  hopes." 

"  But  I  must  tell  thee  news,  too,"  began  Ephraim 
again,  now  in  a  milder  tone,  feeling,  no  doubt,  how 
he  had  pained  his  sister.     "The  Secretary  Lessing 


264  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

has  amved  here  from  Breslaii.  I  shall  see  him  to- 
morrow evening  at  Mendelssohn's.  Only  think 
whom  I  shall  see  there  besides;  dost  thou  remember 
the  lady  that  made  such  line  verses  about  thee  at 
thy  wedding  ?  She  lives  here  now,  celebrated  and 
honored  as  a  poetess.  A  Baron  Kottwitz,  a  true 
nobleman,  has  rescued  her  from  her  needy  condition. 
Also  the  grenadier-poet,  Gieim,  who,  at  the  Feast  of 
Tabernacles,  brought  thee  the  souvenir  from  thy 
first  bridegroom,  will  be  present.  He  is  now  secre- 
tary of  the  cathedral  in  Ilalberstadt,  and  is  building 
out  of  poetic  epistles  a  cathedral  of  friendship.  It 
is  not  wise  in  thee  to  keep  thyself  aloof  so  from  all 
companies;  thou  denyest  thyself  many  a  pleasure." 

Violet  fell  into  deep  thought  when  her  brother 
had  gone;  she  reproached  herself  for  immuring  her- 
self so  in  her  domesticity,  but  she  could  no  longer 
extricate  herself.  She  had,  in  marrying  her  hus- 
band, married  into  a  whole  circle  of  sisters-in-law 
and  aunts,  and  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  sacrifice 
to  each  one,  with  the  expense  of  time,  a  piece  of  lier 
life;  she  had  always  come  home  so  unsettled  and 
empty  from  the  so-called  social  entertainments,  as 
she  could  take  no  pleasure  in  all  the  clack  of  gossip, 
criticizing  of  dress  and  firing  off  of  small  witticisms; 
she  buried  herself  in  a  recluse  life  of  reading.  "He 
is  here!"  she  now  said  to  herself;  "I  wonder,  does 
he  dream  that  I  am  so  near  him,  does  he,  perhaps, 
any  longer  remember  me  ?  Ah  !  that  I  could  see 
him,  only  once  see  him  ! "  Slie  raised  her  head;  she 
was  sitting  directly  opposite  the  looking-glass,  and 


POOR  SOULS.  255 

now,  when  she  saw  her  red  cheeks  and  her  glisten- 
ing eyes  looking  at  her  out  of  the  mirror,  she  veiled 
her  face  with  shame  and  remorse,  for  she  had  be- 
come conscious  of  unfaithfulness  to  her  husband. 
"But,"  said  she  again,  "he  has,  indeed,  no  claim  to 
my  heart,  he  never  demanded  that."  She  considered 
in  what  way  she  could  see  Lessing  to-morrow  even- 
ing, without  committing  herself  to  the  constraint  of 
society  and  thereby  giving  up  her  whole  previous 
mode  of  life. 

Whoso  observed  Violet  only  superficially,  would 
have  agreed  with  the  opinion  of  the  Berlin  Jews, 
that  she  lived  in  a  happy  wedlock,  which,  in  order 
to  be  perfect,  needed  only  the  blessing  of  children ; 
in  fact,  children  would  have  attached  Violet  more 
closely  to  her  husband,  and  prevented  her  sorrow 
from  coming  to  an  outbreak;  it  would  not  thereby 
have  been  appeased.  However  repulsive  to  her  in 
the  beginning  had  been  the  counting-room  business, 
which  she  had  to  superintend  for  her  husband, 
she,  nevertheless,  became  subsequently  in  the  same 
degree  gratified  by  it,  for  she  derived  from  it  the 
consciousness  of  a  profitable  activity,  and  could 
thereby  devote  herself  the  more  freely  to  the  only 
passion  which  she  could  pursue  with  unalloyed 
pleasure,  that  of  benevolence.  Not  seldom,  how- 
ever, did  she  spoil  this  pure  pleasure  of  hers  by 
hypercritical  misgivings;  she  felt  herself  obliged  to 
confess  that  she  should  be  less  susceptible  and  help- 
ful to  the  sorrow  and  distress  of  the  afilicted,  if  she 
herself  led  a  happy  life;  she  would  insist  on  extorting 


250  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

selfishness  out  of  her  actions.     For  the  most  part, 
however,  the  inner  truth  conquered,  and  she  enjoyed 
that  radiant  angelic  joy  whicli  always  accompanies 
beneficence.     How  she  rejoiced  to  be  able  to  set  it 
high  on  the  list  of  her  husband's  good  qualities,  that 
he    left   her    beneficence    absolutely    an    unlimited 
range!     Unfortunately,  she  could  add  but  little  else. 
Ilerz  Helft  was,  indeed,  an  upright  man,  but  that 
concerned  his  business  relations  with  the  external 
world.     Love  may,  indeed,  find  in  the  general  re- 
spect for  character  a  fair  ground  to  build  upon,  but 
it  does  not  absolutely  require  that   condition,   for 
genuine  love  detaches  not  its  affection  from  its  ob- 
ject, even  though  he  bore  the  Cain's-mark  of  univers- 
al scorn.     Through  her  immediate  entanglement  in 
business  matters  Violet  had  also  to  endure  all  the 
whims  of  her  husband,  arising  out  of  the  manifold 
fluctuations  of  trade.     In  view  of  the  many  good 
qualities  of  her  spouse,  Violet  had  in  the  beginning 
unfolded   all   her   tenderness    and   good   nature,  in 
order   to   bring    her   husband   and   herself    into    a 
warmer  and  more  cordial  relation,  but  Herz  Helft 
took  it  all  with  cool  composure,  and  Violet,  perceiv- 
ing her  pains  to  be  wasted,  gradually  ceased  her  lit- 
tle tender  attentions.     Her  husband  seemed  hardly 
to  notice  it,  he  was  the  same  afterward  as  before. 

Herz  Helft  was  a  practical  man ;  he  had  only  mar- 
ried when  he  had  fully  sown  his  wild  oats.  Mar- 
riage was  with  him  an  insurance-office  for  careful 
uursing  in  age  and  sickness;  the  wants  of  Violet's 
soul   he  could  not  discern,  because  nothing   of  the 


POOR  SOULS.  251 

kind  stirred  within  himself;  he  often  beheld  her  with 
silent  sorrow,  for  she  was  childless,  and  he  saw  in 
prospect  his  painfully-earned  possessions  passing  one 
day  into  the  hands  of  laughing  heirs.  lie  redoubled 
his  business  activity  for  the  additional  purpose  oi 
forgetting  his  domestic  trouble.  One  could  not  in 
his  presence  venture  to  speak  of  children,  who  would 
not  willingly  see  him  put  out  of  humor,  and  when 
any  one  of  his  nephews  or  nieces  approached  him  he 
would  kiss  them  and  then  softly  push  them  away 
from  him.  Violet,  also,  desired  nothing  more  ar- 
dently than  to  possess  a  daughter,  whom  she  might 
train  up  to  freedom  and  love;  for  such  a  one  she 
would  provide  everything  which  birth  and  fate  had 
withheld  and  wrested  from  her. 

So  lived  the  happy  wedded  couple  which  prudent 
mothers  held  up  to  their  daughters  as  an  example, 
how  beautiful  and  blessed  marriages  of  convenience 
were. 

Violet  thought  of  the  ways  and  means  of  seeing 
Lessing  the  following  evening,  and  when  she  had  at 
last  found  them,  she  was  singularly  stirred  up  and 
went  about  through  the  rooms  singing  in  a  low  tone. 
The  poor  who  came  to-day  to  get  their  weekly  al- 
lowance received  a  double  portion.  She  took  down 
LessiuQ-'s  writino;s  from  the  book-case  and  read  in 
them. 

Ephraim,  too,  made  his  preparations  for  the  com- 
ing evening.     He  had  mentioned  to  Recha  several 
times  his  making  verses.     She  begged  him  to  let  her 
see  some  of  them,  and  he  promised  to.     Here,  now, 
17 


258  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

he  had  found  a  way  that  should  lead  the  most 
speedily  to  the  long-sought  decision.  Instead  of  the 
poems  he  would  hand  her  a  letter;  in  this  explana- 
tion no  one  could  interrupt  nor  any  stranger's  pres- 
ence embarrass  him.  Five — six  beginnings  of  a  let- 
ter lay  round  him;  this  one  was  too  cold,  that  one 
too  passionate,  a  third  too  intellectually  elaborated, 
etc.  At  last  he  surmounted  the  obstacle  by  mak- 
ing it  a  lever  and  fulcrum;  he  began  with  depicting 
how  hard  it  was  for  him  to  fix  to-day  the  look,  in 
which  the  soul  reposed,  upon  paper;  he  pictured  his 
whole  inner  life;  every  word  breathed  love.  Never- 
theless, he  asked  not  openly  and  outright  for  her 
love,  he  begged  for  a  candid  confession  of  what  she 
felt  for  him;  he  imagined  thereby  to  save  himself 
from  the  self-reproach  of  having  inconsiderately 
placed  his  whole  being  at  the  mercy  of  a  maiden's 
hand,  and  possibly  having  to  take  it  back  rejected. 
He  said  he  only  wanted,  like  Archimedes,  a  point  out- 
side of  the  earth,  and  he  would  lift  it  off  its  hinges; 
the  love  of  Recha  was  to  him  this  point,  and  sheltered 
in  her,  he  would  as  a  Jew,  an  outcast  from  the  whole 
community,  learn  to  conquer,  renounce  and  despise 
the  world.  Finally  he  conjured  her,  in  case  of  a  re- 
fusal, simply  to  return  this  letter  to  him  after  three 
days;  that  would  be  answer  enough. 

With  anxious  beating  of  the  heart  he  stood  the 
next  evening  in  his  chamber,  for  he  had  to  confess 
to  himself  that  he  had  set  his  foot  in  the  decisive 
patli  of  his  life. 

Not  for  the  sake  of  reviewing  his  dress,  but  in  mere 


DE  A  MO  RE.  25C 

absence  and  absorption  of  mind,  lie  starc?d  at  bis 
image  in  tbe  looking-glass,  and  yet  he  would  also 
fain  take  a  free  observation  of  his  personal  appear- 
ance. How  would  this  tall  haggard  form  be  likely 
to  strike  others?  Would  they  recognize  the  dis- 
harmony of  the  lengthy  face,  which  now  loose  and 
now  tight,  quivered  in  painful  woe,  where  others 
only  feel  pity? — In  silent  thought  he  blinked  with 
his  dark-glowing  eye,  and  a  sarcastically  melancholy 
expression  made  itself  visible  in  the  little  wrinkles. 

A  loving  eye  will  look  upon  me,  thought  Ephraim 
at  last,  and  its  consecrating  glance  will  reconcile 
me  to  sincerity  and  unity  with  myself. 

As  he  left  the  house,  Matilda  opened  the  window 
and  for  a  long  time  looked  after  him.  "Ah,  I  am 
nothing  but  a  poor  soul ! "  she  sighed,  after  he  had 
disappeared  round  the  corner. 


18.— AN  EVENi:NrG  WITH  MOSES  MENDELS- 
SOHN. 

ON  the  way  to  the  house  of  Moses  Mendelssohn, 
Ephraim  met  Dr.  Bloch,  who  was  just  on  his 
way  thither  and  told  him  that  a  Protestant  deacon 
from  Zurich,  named  Lavater,  who  had  made  himself 
known  by  his  Swiss  hymns,  had  with  several  friends 
been  at  Mendelssohn's  with  the  express  design  of 
converting  him  to  Christianity;  that  only  with  the 
greatest  reluctance  had  Mendelssohn  entered  into 
the  discussion;  but  then,  and  after  the  repeated  as- 
surance of  discretion  on  the  j^art  of  Lavater,  Men- 
delssohn had  defended  himself  with  decided  frank- 
ness, so  that  the  zealous  Deacon  could  at  last  only 
exclaim  with  tears  in  his  eyes:  "Would  God,  you 
were  a  Christian  !  " 

"  Mendelssohn  has  been  unhappily  very  much  ex- 
hausted by  this  discussion,"  Bloch  continued;  "when 
he  sent  for  me  to-day,  he  said  to  me:  'I  am  as  little 
made  for  an  athlete  in  my  moral  as  in  my  physical 
constitution.' — Now  you  must  stand  by  us,  Mr.  Kuh, 
in  case  of  any  new  attack  which  the  Deacon  may  at- 


AN  EVENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  2C1 

temiTt  this  evening.  "We  must  cover  Mendelssohn, 
and  should  sooner  expose  ourselves  than  our  gen- 
eralissimo." 

It  AV.1S  with  a  peculiar  reverence  that  Ephraim,  on 
entering  the  sitting-room,  grasped  the  offered  hand 
of  Mendelssohn ;  he  would  fain,  indeed,  in  a  twofold 
sense,  earn  the  right  to  be  near  him. 

The  friends  were  already  assembled,  Fran  Karsch 
only  was  yet  wanting;  she  was  in  company  at  Count 
Herzberg's,  where,  agreeably  to  the  fashion,  people 
were  admiring  her  impromptu  versification.  Men- 
delssohn stejDped  into  a  side-room  to  offer  the  prayer 
which  was  usual  at  that  hour,  for  it  was  Saturday 
evening.  Lessing  and  Gleim  expressed  their  pleas- 
ure at  being  able  to  greet  Ephraim  as  an  old  ac- 
quaintance; Gleim,  in  particular,  remembered  with 
deep  interest  that  hour  which  he  had  spent  in  the 
booth  at  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  at  Ephraim's 
father's. 

The  company  was,  as  yet,  at  that  first  stage  of 
buzzing  talk  to  and  fro,  which  may  be  regarded  as  a 
i:)relirainary  tuning  and  trying  of  instruments,  and 
here  one  saw  that  a  consonance  was  sought  after, 
for  Mendelssohn  loved  to  make  conversation  social 
and  lead  it  out  to  the  discussion  of  a  definite  object. 
Ephraim  talked  with  Gleim  and  Nicolai,  but  he 
listened  toward  the  other  end  of  the  apartment, 
where  Lessing  was  joking  with  Recha  and  Frau 
Mendelssohn.  Had  Ephraim  still  doubted  of  his 
lov^e,  this  jealousy  must  have  convinced  him  of  its 
power.     He  felt  repeatedly  after  the  letter  in  his 


262 


rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 


side-pocket,  as  if  he  feared  that  it  would  be  snatched 
from  him  by  a  strange  hand. 

"It  is  surely  handsome  of  Frau  Karsch,"  said 
Recha,  "  that  after  my  honored  brother-in-law  "—so 
she  always  called  Mendelssohn — "  has  criticized  her 
so  unmercifully,  in  which  I  did  not  quite  agree  with 
him,  she,  nevertheless,  comes  to  us  without  any 
grudge,  and  so  modestly  asks  advice." 

"  Ah  !  I  understand  that,"  said  Lessing,  laughing, 
"  there  are  persons,  who,  with  the  greatest  deference, 
go  from  house  to  house  and  ask  every  one  importu- 
nately: What  do  you  think  of  what  I  have  done  or 
produced?  Speak  to  me  frankly  and  advise  me 
what  I  shall  do  next.  I  am  without  sensitiveness 
and  grateful. — But  inwardly  they  only  want  praise  * 
and  think  that  when  they  have  expressed  modesty 
they  have  done  enough;  all  that  most  care  to  do 
or  can  do,  after  all,  is  to  go  on  in  their  old  way." 

Ephraim  had  just  been  presented  to  Deacon  Lav- 
ater,  whose  glance  rested  searchingly  on  his  face, 
when  Mendelssohn  came  in  again  and  in  a  friendly 
tone  inquired:  "Where  is  Frau  Karsch  all  this 
time  ?  " 

"  Thyrsis  may  answer  where  his  Chloe  drives  her 
flock  so  late  in  the  evening,"  said  Lessing  to  Gleim. 

"  If  she  knew  that  a  God  is  so  gracious  f  to  her 
she  would  not  seek  the  favor  of  a  king;"  answered 
Gleim,  with  an  allusion  to  Lessing's  Christian  name. 

"The  king  will  do  nothing  for  her;  she  is  a  Ger- 
man and  a  woman,"  said  Nicolai. 

*  "We  ask  advice  and  mean  approbation."     (Lacour). 
t  Gott-hold  (God-gracious). 


ANE  VENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  263 

"  And  she  takes  the  liberty  to  be  a  believer,"  add 
ed  Lessing;  "and  here  the  popular  thing  is  to  bring 
to  market  as  many  absurdities  against  religion  as 
one  will.     One  will  be  ashamed  ere  long  to  use  such 
freedom  as  this." 

"  Where  is  there  then  a  freer  land  ?  "  asked  Nicolai, 
and  Lessing  replied: 

"You  just  try  to  tell  the  court-rabble  a  truth; 
let  any  one  come  out,  here  in  this  Frenchified  Berlin, 
and  undertake  to  raise  his  voice  for  the  rights  of  the 
subject,  and  against  blood-sucking  despotism,  and 
you  will  soon  see  which  is  the  most  enslaved  coun- 
try of  Europe.  Your  free-thinkers  are  like  the 
priests;  they  will  believe  in  private  what  they 
please,  so  long  as  the  dear  common  people  keep 
nicely  in  the  ruts  in  which  they  know  how  to  lead 
them.  The  way  in  which  your  revicAV  of  the  king's 
poems  was  received,  dear  Mendelssohn,  doesn't  that 
show  what  kind  of  freedom  they  will  allow  ?  They 
have  overlooked  all  the  expressions  of  your  sincere 
respect,  and  cannot  pardon  you  for  having  shown  by 
the  standard  of  an  infrangible  logic  what  it  is  these 
messieurs  put  into  verse,  and  how  they  often  do  not 
themselves  know  what  they  think.  Is  that  freedom, 
that  one  will  teach  others,  but  will  not  let  himself 
be  taught  ?  " 

"  You  are  too  passionate,  dear  friend,"  said  j\[en- 
delssohn,  with  his  mild  timidity,  and  Lessing  re- 
plied : 

"If  one  may  not  be  warm  in  speaking  of  what  one 
sees  to  be  an  abuse  of  truth  and  reason,  when  and 


264  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

where  can  one  be  ?  I  do  not  mean  any  longer  to  be 
cold  and  indifferent.  I  say  with  Luther:  Necessity 
breaks  iron,  and  feels  no  anger." 

All  were  silent  awhile,  but  Lavater,  who  always 
loved  to  draw  out  a  lively  expression  of  sentiment, 
and  with  all  his  inward  inspiration  to  bring  to  light, 
also,  the  power  of  his  personality,  now  said: 

"Your  King  Frederick  may  be  called  a  great  man ; 
from  my  point  of  view  I  must  say:  Without  faith 
and  humility  there  is  no  true  greatness.  Give  God 
above  the  glory,  the  Scripture  teaches." 

"The  inventor  of  the  Prussian  monarchy,"  began 
Bloch,  with  a  visible  pugnacity,  "  has  certainly  no 
faith  nor  love,  either  towards  God — " 

"Or  women,"  inserted  Abraham  the  Reckoner, 
whom,  in  the  friendly  circle,  they  also  called  Diog- 
enes. 

"  Or  the  physicians,"  said  Lessing,  satirically,  to 
Bloch. 

"I  think,"  began  Mendelssohn,  with  a  command- 
ing motion  of  the  hand,  and,  as  he  always  stuttered, 
particularly  in  the  l)eginning  of  a  speech,  the 
attention  of  all  rose  to  the  pitch  of  a  certain  joint 
helping-out;  "I  think,  that  Frederick's  isolated 
position  conditions  the  basis  of  his  character,  lie  is 
just  and  tolerant,  not  from  magnanimity  or  philan- 
thropy, but  from  a  sense  of  duty;  he  is  unweariedly 
active  for  the  mass,  and  yet  is  a  misanthrope." 

"He  himself  proves  his  principle,"  interposed 
Maimon,  "  that  the  actions  of  men  are  not  properly 
determined  by  their  maxims." 


L 


AN  E  VENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  2 Go 

"There  we  must  discriminate;"  IMeiidelssohn 
again  took  up  the  discourse.  "In  our  actions  we 
are  led  by  motives,  in  our  sentiments  by  reasons;  the 
former  create  the  state,  the  latter  religion,  which 
constitutes  itself  as  church,  synagogue  and  mosque. 
But  to  return  to  our  king;  he  wants  the  central 
point  from  which  all  life  proceeds  and  to  which  it 
returns.  He  has  never  known  the  love  of  children 
or  of  woman;  the  friend  of  his  youth  was  sacrificed  to 
his  father's  rigid  notion  of  duty;  to  parental  love 
he  was  equally  a  stranger;  love  of  country  and  of 
glory  cannot  satisfy  the  lesser  relations  of  existence, 
which,  nevertheless,  are  a  necessity  to  all;  so  then, 
nothing  remains  but  the  doing  of  duty,  which  per- 
petuates itself  like  the  breathing  of  the  body,  and  it 
is  a  no  small  glory  of  human  nature  that  duty  is  so 
firmly  rooted  in  the  spirit  as  to  hold  its  place  undis- 
turbed by  all  extravagances  of  opinion.*  I  say  the 
situation  in  life  of  Frederick  permits  him  in  his 
general  thinking  frivolity  and  mockery.  Every 
great  king  of  France  has  therefore  been  more 
worthy  of  respect,  because  as  great  king  he  played 
with  his  children  on  the  floor.  I  should  be  inclined 
to  assert  that  only  in  the  family  is  man  truly  moral, 
there  he  is  in  the  natural  spiritual  connection  with 
the  order  of  the  universe." 

"  Let  us  be  married  as  quickly  as  possible,  dear 
Gleim,  else  we  shall  even  be  excommunicated  by  our 
friend  Moses  from  the  church  of  morality." 

Gleim  was  ill  at  ease,  for  he  who  sang  "  God  and 


See  an  eloquent  passage  in  Brown's  "Philosophy  of  the  Mind.' 


266  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Frederick,"  had  to  be  one  of  tlie  listeners  to  all  this; 
he  therefore  kept  his  lips  pressed  together  sullenly, 
and  Lessing  went  on : 

"But  friend  Moses  only  means  to  tease  us.  He 
knows  that  the  standard  of  family  welfare  is  not 
always  adequate;  there  are  natures  and  relations 
which  demand  a  different  measure.  Whoso  always 
lived  only  for  the  community,  without  the  least  self- 
reference,  always  under  the  point  of  view  of  what  is 
universal  and  eternal,  would  live  in  God.  I  j^ledge 
myself  in  this  sense  not  only  to  defend  King  Fred- 
erick, but  to  prove  him  holy." 

"  There  again  you  are  practicing  your  sham-fight 
gymnastics,"  rejoined  Mendelssohn.  "  I  will  not  rob 
you  of  the  honor  of  espousing  your  favorite  side, 
that  of  the  assailed.  Let  us  drop  all  personalities. 
You  know  very  well  that  what  I  properly  mean  to 
say  is:  outside  of  society — the  first  point  or  inner 
circle  of  which  is  the  family — man  cannot  fulfill  his 
duty  to  his  fellow-men  or  his  God.  Care  for  others, 
benevolence,  makes  one  at  bottom  happier  than  self- 
interest,  but  we  must,  withal,  still  feel  ourselves  and 
the  expression  of  our  powers;  our  action  would  have 
no  worth  nor  merit,  unless  it  flowed  from  the  free 
impulse  of  good-will.  Other  standards  may  hold 
good  for  those  who  stand  at  the  head  of  society.  I 
let  that  be  with  granting  it — I  only  say,  for  us  in 
the  rank  of  citizens,  the  family  unites  equally  duty 
and  natural  impulse.  It  is  a  question  whether  any 
but  he  who  lives  in  family  relations  has  a  right  to 
speak  in  the  great  council  of  humanity,  of  science, 


AN  E  VENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  2G  7 

to  purtake  in  the  great  festival  oj^'  hnmanity,  of  art, 
or  to  take  part  in  the  great  battle  of  huiiuuiity  for  . 
right  and  reason." 

All  were  silent,  even  Lessing  kept  his  thoughts  to 
himself;  he  may  have  felt  that  shyness  which  often 
comes  over  a  friend,  when  before  others  he  has 
fallen  into  an  exclusive  dialogue  with  his  intimate: 
either  it  becomes  a  mere  spectacle  to  the  idle 
by-standers,  or  there  comes  in  a  consideration  which 
prejudices  the  matter.  With  contemplative  calm- 
ness Lessing  looked  into  the  shining  face  of  his 
friend,  who  had  suffered  himself  to  be  transported 
beyond  his  quiet  and  measured  style  of  speech. 

"  Excuse  me,  respected  brother-in-law,  if  I  ask  a 
stupid  question,"  began  Recha. 

"  Speak  up,"  replied  Mendelssohn,  encouragingly, 
and  both  look  and  word  expressed  that  friendly 
interest  which  treats  a  wife  and  sister  with  the 
familiarity  of  a  relative,  and  yet  again  with  a  polite 
attention.  "  Thou  regardest  thy  question  as  a  very 
wise  one,  because  thou  callest  it  foolish,  but  let  us 
hear  it," 

All  eyes  were  directed  to  Recha,  Avho  said: 

"  Is  not  the  idea  of  the  family  life,  as  you  have 
laid  it  down,  a  reproach  against  our  religion  ?  " 

"  Express  thyself  more  distinctly." 

"I  remember  your  once  explaining  to  me  that  the 
Romans  had  used  the  word  Family,  in  the  lirst 
instance,  for  the  company  of  household  slaves;  still 
harder  than  Rome  was  Judaism  upon  women;  were 
they,    then,    much    more    than    slaves?    Has   not 


268  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Christianity  first  redeemed  -woman  from  the  state  of 
slavery,  laid  the  foundation  of  equality  before  the 
law,  and  thus  founded  the  family?" 

Lavater  rose  from  his  seat,  and  Ephraim  trembled 
as  he  met  the  eye  of  Doctor  Bloch,  who  was  making 
signs  to  him;  he  fancied  his  love  was  betrayed,  and 
thought  now  that  the  physician  was  hinting  to  him 
how  the  real  fight  was  only  just  beginning. 

"That  is  a  delicate  subject,"  said  Mendelssohn, 
looking  down  a  little  uneasily;  "that  does  not  admit 
of  being  explained  in  few  words,  how  far  revelation 
is  in  itself  perfect  and  eternal,  and  yet  again  in  its 
temporal  mode  of  manifestation  capable  of  being 
perfected.  Judaism  has,  with  the  disintegration  of 
state  life,  cast  off  the  elements  of  political  nationality, 
and  must  now  let  other  national  elements,  as  Ger- 
manism— for  this  is  here  the  standard — act  upon  it 
in  regard  to  the  position  of  woman.  But  I  must  beg 
that  our  conversation  shall  not  be  diverted  in  this 
direction.  In  these  hours  of  recreation  which  my 
business  allows  me,  I  would  gladly  forget  all  differ- 
ence, all  discord,  that  has  ever  made  man  the 
enemy  of  man,  and  I  always  endeavor  at  such  times 
to  wipe  out  all  experiences  which  I  have  had  through 
the  day,  on  that  subject,  from  my  memory." 

"Disrespectful  as  I  must  seem  to  my  host,  I  can- 
not agree  with  that,"  protested  Lavater.  "  We  have 
come  into  the  world  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth. 
Tliat  is  man's  calling  and  dignity  !  We  must  always 
confess  the  name  of  the  Lord,  at  every  hour  and  in 
svery  place.     I  cannot,  I  must  not  spare  you.     You 


AN  EVENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN  269 

evade  tlie  truth  again,  in  ascribing  to  Germanism 
what  belongs  to  our  church." 

"  Either  you  or  I,"  said  Mendelssohn,  "  one  of  us  is 
a  memorable  example  of  the  power  of  prejudice  and 
education  itself  over  those  who  with  sincere  hearts 
seek  the  truth.  But  let  us  for  that  very  reason  leave 
all  attempts  at  proselytism.  The  mass  of  all  relig- 
ions hold  very  much  to  conversions,  but  not  the 
pliilosophers.  You  are  a  Christian  preacher,  and  I 
a  Jew;  what  of  that  ?  If  we  restore  to  the  sheep  and 
the  silk-worm  what  they  have  lent  us,  we  are  both 
tnen.  Were  I  from  the  heart  brought  over  to  an- 
other religion,  it  were  the  most  contemptible  pusil- 
lanimity, in  spite  of  the  internal  conviction  to  be  un- 
willing to  confess  the  truth." 

"Do  you  honestly  ask  yourself  whether  you  are 
willing  to  own  your  prejudices  in  favor  of  our  re- 
ligion ?  " 

"I  know  there  are  in  my  religion  human  additions 
and  abuses  which  greatly  obscure  its  brightness. 
Whether  I  have  prejudices  in  favor  of  my  religion  I 
cannot  myself  decide,  any  more  than  I  can  know 
whether  my  breath  has  a  bad  odor.  I  wdll  not  insist 
upon  it  as  an  advantage  of  my  religion,  but  only  let 
it  have  its  weight  as  a  fact,  that  its  revelation  claims  to 
be  binding  as  a  doctrine  only  on  those  of  Jewish  de- 
scent, and  no  others,  for  every  other  man  in  like  man- 
ner can,  as  even  King  Frederick  expressed  himself, 
be  saved  in  his  oy^nfa^on;  Ju-daism  has  no  revelation 
of  exclusive  saving  truths  which  are  necessary  to 
happiness ;    these   are   not   revealed  by  sound  and 


270  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  NT. 

written  sign,  here  find  there,  intelligible  to  this  and 
that  man,  but  through  the  creation  itself  and  its  in- 
terior relations,  which  are  legible  and  intelligible  to 
all  men. 

"For  myself  I  set  up  this  criterion  in  religious 
matters  :  as  men  must  be  all  designed  by  their  Cre- 
ator for  fraternal  happiness,  and  exclusive  religion 
cannot  be  the  true  one,  no  revelation  can  be  the  true 
one  which  claims  to  be  the  only  saving  one,  for  it 
does  not  harmonize  with  the  designs  of  the  all-merci- 
ful Creator.  I  hold  the  middle  ground  between 
dogmatic  and  skeptic  ;  I  know,  every  other  rea- 
sonable man,  starting  from  another  point  and  fol- 
lowing another  clew,  may  rightly  come  to  an  opinion 
exactly  opposite  to  mine.  Herewith,  stormy  friend, 
let  us,  I  pray,  at  last  conclude.  The  truths  Avhich  we 
confess  in  common  are  not  sufficiently  diffused  to 
justify  us  in  leaving  them  for  the  disputed  points." 

Doctor  Bloch  would  not  be  satisfied  with  a  peace 
so  concluded  ;  he  wanted  also  to  have  the  victory, 
and  therefore  he  kindled  the  strife  anew  by  triumph- 
antly exclaiming:  "All  religions,  Judaism,  Pagan- 
ism, Christianity,  all  have  brought  upon  the  world 
more  general  mischief  than  blessing  in  particular." 

"Not  so,"  Mendelssohn  once  more  protested; 
"we  should  not  yield  to  the  propensity  to  set  cer- 
tain things  very  much  too  low  because  others  have 
rated  them  very  much  too  high,  for  thereby  we 
keep  the  scales  in  a  perpetual  fluctuation  and  never 
brill  or  them  to  an  even  balance.  And  radical 
negation  lends  a  pretext  to  superstition.     One  will 


AN  EVENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  271 

then  rilthcr  be  surrouiKled  by  spectres  than  pursue 
his  way  in  a  dead  nature  through  the  midst  of  noth- 
ing but  corpses.  Do  not  assail  the  man-ennobling 
and  exalting  power  of  religion — " 

"Tliat  I  certainly  do;  it  has  deterred  men  from 
relying  on  their  might  and  honor;  the  world  is  sick; 
it  cannot  rid  itself  of  the  fixed  idea  that  there  are 
Jews,  Christians,  and  Heathen ;  Humanity  alone 
must  be  henceforth  the  rallying  cry." 

"And  the  position  of  the  Jews,"  Ephraira  here 
ventured  to  put  in  his  word,  "  is  always  the  index  to  \  \-~jf^ 
the  state  of  the  barometer  .of  humanity — "  ; 

"I  too  am  a  globule  of  quicksilver,"  Maimon  here 
interpolated  in  a  whisper  to  Abraham  Diogenes,  and 
Ephraim  continued  : 

"  Here  is  a  gaping  wound,  into  which  the  incredu- 
lous Thomas  can  thrust  his  hand  ;  the  Jews  have  no 
martyrologies,  for  they  are  all  martyrs,  more  or  less; 
they  attest  a  high  calling,  which  the  world's  history 
has  reserved  for  them,  that  in  tlie  midst  of  all  storms 
and  streams  of  the  times  they  have  stood  fast  and 
are  now  awakened  to  fresh  activity.  It  is  important 
first  of  all  to  insure  an  acknowledgment  that  in  Ju- 
daism and  the  Jews,  magnanimity  and  philanthropy 
have  struck  their  roots  no  less  firmly  than  anywhere 
else." 

Recha  held  her  hands  clasped  while  Ephraim  was 
speaking,  and  looked  down  into  her  lap  ;  this  Eph- 
raim had  remarked,  and  took  it  as  a  proof  of  sympa- 
thy, or  an  anxiety  about  him,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
fiery  zeal  of  his  speech  the  thought  darted  up  that 


272  rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

he  was  showing  himself  here  in  a  tournament  before 
liis  beloved  ;  this  was  at  those  first  words,  where  he 
properly  repeated  himself,  but  he  quickly  banished 
all  side-considerations  and  plunged  the  more  impet- 
uously into  the  subject.  Recha  now  looked  up,  as 
Mendelssohn  added : 

"Yes,  one  must  guard  himself  from  the  blasphe- 
mous ingratitude  with  which  one  would  ofttimes 
curse  the  gift  of  intelligence,  for  the  position  in 
which  Ave  Jews  stand  does  not  increase  contentment 
if  one  learns  to  discern  the  rights  of  humanity  on 
their  true  side.  They  go  on  to  cut  us  off  from  all 
arts,  sciences  and  other  useful  professions  and  occu- 
pations of  men;  block  up  against  us  all  ways  to  use- 
ful improvement  and  make  the  want  of  culture  a 
ground  for  our  further  oppression.  They  bind  our 
hands  and  then  reproach  us  for  not  using  them.  But 
I  wish  above  all  that  we  might  refute  the  contemptu- 
ous opinion  which  they  have  of  us  Jews,  not  by 
contest  and  the  like,  but  by  virtue  and  integrity." 

"What  do  you  want  of  recognition?"  rejoined 
Abraham  Diogenes.  "  By  whom  then  would  you  be 
recognized?  By  the  blockheads  ?  They  would  need 
to  be  sensible.  By  the  aristocrats  and  priests? 
They  would  have  to  cease  being  what  they  are. 
What  remainder  will  there  be  then,  when  you  sub- 
tract this  sum  total  ?  Two  or  three  people — " 
"  No,  the  state,"  interrupted  Ephraim. 
"Thank  you  for  nothing.  What  does  the  state 
concern  me  ?  I  can  live  and  tliink — " 

"  No,  that  only  is  life  which  knows  itself  as  part 


AN  E  VENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  2  "7  0 

of  the  community,  that  only  is  tliinking  and  feeling 
which  turns  toward  a  common  shrine." 

"  You  are  nearer  salvation  than  you  dream,"  said 
Lavater,  grasping  Ephraim's  hand ;  "  a  man  who 
thinks  of  himself  as  an  image  of  the  Supreme  Power 
becomes  a  trans23arent  medium  of  the  source  of 
Light  and  of  the  most  living  Love,  which  he  con- 
ceives as  cause  of  all  causes.  And  out  of  lowliness 
and  a  sense  of  the  need  of  salvation  blooms  the 
flower  of  Faith,  awaked  by  the  Sun  of  Grace  to  life, 
and  flooded  with  the  pomp  and  splendor  of  the  Light. 
You  are  a  substantive  in  the  grammar  of  humanity; 
unhappily  the  grace  has  not  yet  revealed  itself 
to  you,  but  it  will  do  so,  it  must  do  so  in  prayer; 
for  without  grace,  which  the  Lord  pours  out  upon  us, 
there  is  no  faith." 

Lavater  spoke  wdth  so  much  unction  and  with  a 
tone  of  such  profound  conviction  that  even  the 
pugilistic  Doctor  Bloch  would  not  oppose  him;  but 
JNIaimon  alone  cared  nothing  for  the  apostolic  zeal 
of  the  Deacon  and  went  blustering  on: 

"There  we  have  it  again,  new  cldldren  of  God, 
elected  hy  grace.  Why  am  I  a  step-child  of  grace  ? 
What  have  I  done,  and  all  the  millions  of  heathen 
with  me  ?  But  I  do  not  think  much  of  the  sharp 
opposition  of  many  Jews,  who  would  willingly  have 
turned  to  Christianity  as  it  is  if  they  themselves 
had  been  allowed  a  hand  in  making  it,  but  now  that 
it  has  become  so  powerful  without  their  doing,  love 
to  pick  flaws  in  it.  There  must  lie  in  Christianity  a 
high  historical  idea,  since  it  has  received  so  high  a 


274  POE  T  AND  MER  CHANT. 

Bignificance  in  tlie  world's  history,  as  a  Jew  was 
once  converted  to  Christianity  by  the  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  it  forever  and  ever  remained  holy  in 
despite  of  good-for-nothing  and  hypocritical  priests. 
As  the  Christians  call  everything  that  they  find  good 
in  Judaism  and  the  Jews  Christian,  so  too,  do  many 
Jews  turn  the  tables  upon  them;  at  anything  which 
pleases  them  in  Christianity,  they  cry  out  like  the 
clown  in  the  circus,  when  his  master  does  a  mighty 
feat:  'Attention!  he  has  learned  all  that  of  me.' 
But  why  hast  not  thou  mounted  the  rope,  thou  wise 
clown  ?  " 

There  was  a  general  laugh,  and  Nicolai  remarked 
that  that  mode  of  a  Jew's  conversion  was  related  in 
Boccacio's  Decameron.  Hereupon  Maimon  pro- 
ceeded: 

"  I  cannot  ascribe  all  to  the  circumstance  that  the 
Greek  and  Roman  gods  were  just  on  the  eve  of  dy- 
ing out  when  Christianity  arose;  accident  is  a 
maker  of  opportunity,  but  will,  and  necessity  must 
first  be  there  to  grasp  it.  For  aught  I  care,  Christ 
may  have  abolished  the  Jewish  ceremonies  or  not, 
enough  that  they  do  not  exist  in  the  Christian 
church;  religion  is  freed  from  all  nationality,  and 
the  idea  of  humanity  is  saved.  The  only  question 
with  me  is:  Can  I  not  also  achieve  that  out  of  my 
own  thought  ?  " 

"  No,"  cried  Lavater,  "  not  without  grace,  and 
even  if  you  could,  still  you  are  only  a  lost,  lone 
lamb;  you  know  not  the  way  to  union  with  the  flock 
and  the  shepherd:  the  dogma  and  the  symbol.     I 


AN  EVENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN  275 

will  not  now  dispute  the  question  whether  the  crite- 
rion of  our  friend  Mendelssolin  in  reference  to  the 
exclusively  saving  power  will  bear  examination;  I 
will  also  let  it  stand  without  admitting  it,  that  one 
can  in  any  other  way  attain  to  salvation,  but  this  is 
my  conviction:  through  Christianity  one  can  reach 
the  highest  moral  perfection  of  which  he  is  capable 
in  the  easiest  and  speediest  way." 

"Waiving  every  other  consideration,"  said  Eph- 
raim,  "  I  could  not  become  a  Christian,  as  I,  being  a 
German,  cannot  become  a  Frenchman  or  an  English- 
man, even  though  I  held  those  peoples  to  be  might- 
ier and  happier,  and  should  be  glad  to  have  sprung 
from  them;  nor  could  I  change  my  inner  religion  of 
language;  I  must  remain  a  German  and  I  am  a  Jew, 
and  if  I  should  be  a  deserter  from  Judaism,  my 
life's  roots  would  be  torn  up  and  torn  to  shreds. 
Of  course  this  is  only  personal,  and  has  for  others  no 
rational  ground  of  universal  validity,  but  is  it  any- 
thing different  with  faith,  and  is  not  the  saving  of 
personality  the  highest  and  the  inalienable  thing? 
If  Christianity  will  have  the  free  personality,  the 
free  man,  well  then,  she  must  allow  him  a  validity 
also  outside  of  her  church." 

"  This  is  precisely  the  miracle  of  the  new  birth 
through  baptism,  that  you  become  another  man;" 
replied  Lavater;  "that  you  become  something 
which  you  cannot  be  nor  attain  through  the  deduc- 
tions of  overweening  reason;  faith  is  a  miracle,  and 
its  interior  force  is  the  miraculous  creation;  it  cre- 
ates man  also  anew,  and  hence  it  is  said  in  the 
Scripture:     Faith  can  remove  mountains." 


276  POET  AhW  MERCHANT. 

Gleim  now  started  up  from  his  silence  and  with  a 
smile  declaimed: 

"I,  dwarf  in  faith,  of  thee,  in  faith  a  giant,  pray: 
For  me  the  Hoppelsberg  of  Halberstadt  convey, — 
'Tis  sure  an  easy  thing  for  thee, — 
This  day  to  Sans-Souci." 

A  merriment  offensive  to  Lavater  seemed  about  to 
relieve  the  air  for  the  company,  when  Ephraim  once 
more  took  up  the  word,  and,  in  speaking  of  the  mar- 
tyrdoms which  chain  us  to  the  historic  past,  he  told 
of  the  imprisonment  and  the  death  of  his  father  on 
account  of  the  superstitious  legend  of  the  passover- 
blood.  The  hands  of  Mendelssohn  trembled,  his 
lips  turned  pale,  as  he  now  cried  aloud : 

"  And  all  this  was  done  and  is  still  done  upon  the 
strength  of  the  most  devilish  lie,  which  has  not  even 
the  shadow  of  a  foundation.  Rabbi  Menasse  Ben 
Israel  asseverated  before  the  English  Parliament  in 
the  time  of  Cromwell,  with  the  highest  oath,  that  the 
alleged  crime  of  blood-letting  can  never  be  practiced 
by  a  Jew  for  his  passover,  for  the  law  forbids  us 
even  the  blood  of  beasts.  And  I  stand  here  and  in- 
voke all  the  curses  of  Heaven  upon  me,  if  Rabbi 
Menasse  has  not  spoken  the  whole  truth.  I  repeat 
his  oath  for  myself,  and  my  tribe,  and  all  Israel.  I 
bring  no  charge  against  the  Christian  religion;  not 
it,  but  its  priests  have  loaded  us  with  this  lie.  What 
is  too  bad  for  the  thirst  of  blood  ?  But  now,  let  us 
keep  our  religion,  and  do  not  hinder  us  from  being 
honest." 

All  were  moved  at  the  sight  of  Mendelssohn,  who 


AN  EVENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  277 

sat  down  again,  trembling  in  his  whole  body.  A 
long  silence  ensued,  till  at  last  Recha  said  softly: 

"It  is  the  most  painful  of  questions:  Why  is  it 
precisely  the  holiest  thing  that  has  brought  forth 
the  monstrosities  of  crime  ?  " 

No  one  answered,  when  Mendelssohn  spoke  again 
with  calm  voice: 

"  The  answer  to  this  question  is  given  by  one  of 
those  martyred  ones,  a  Hebrew  w^riter,  for  he  says: 
'  The  nobler  a  thing  is  in  its  perfection,  so  much  the 
more  awful  in  its  corruption.  A  rotted  wood  is  not 
BO  repulsive  as  a  decayed  flower;  the  latter  is  not 
so  disgusting  as  a  putrefied  beast;  and  this  again  is 
not  so  ghastly  as  the  human  body  in  its  corruption.' 
So  too,  we  may  add:  The  fairest  bloom  of  reason  is 
culture,  and  proportionately  the  more  hideous  in  its 
decay  as  moral  corruption  and  dissolution;  and  the 
sublimest  fruit  of  human  intellect  is  recognition  of 
God  and  love  of  man,  and  the  most  detestable  in  its 
decay  and  dissolution  as  fanaticism  and  misan- 
thropy." 

"  So,  dear  Moses,  so  we  are  now  on  the  mountain- 
peak  and  survey  the  chain  of  heights  and  its  cross- 
cuttings  of  valleys,"  cried  Lessing,  at  last,  turning  to 
and  fro  with  nervous  mobility.  It  was  as  if  fresh 
choice  troops  marched  upon  the  battle-ground  and 
renewed  the  conflict,  when  Lessing  now  gave  np  his 
previous  position  of  suspense  and  brought  forward  a 
new  banner  in  saying:  "I  cry  with  Ulrich  von  Hut- 
ten:  O  century!  Minds  are  awake,  it  is  a  joy  to 
live  !     In  the  storm  begins  the  true  life.     Fools,  who 


278  POE  T  AND  MERC  FT  A  NT. 

would  be  glad  to  banish  the  storm-wind  out  of  nat- 
ure, because  it  there  buries  a  ship  in  the  sand-bank, 
and  here  dashes  another  to  pieces  on  the  rocky- 
coast  !  It  is  not  that  they  care  for  others,  it  is  only 
because  it  has  unroofed  their  summer-house  and 
shaken  too  violently  the  loaded  fruit-trees — " 

"  Whither  are  you  drifting  ?  "  asked  Mendelssohn. 

"Into  the  open  sea,  where  the  national  emigrations 
and  confining  settlements  of  men,  the  funeral  piles 
and  devout  pilgrimages  with  fluttering  banners  dis- 
appear. A  great  and  holy  plan  runs  through  the 
life  of  humanity,  as  it  rises  and  falls,  and  yet  comes 
forth  continually  enriched.  It  may  lie  in  the  plan 
of  the  divine  education  of  mankind,  that  each  indi- 
vidual shall  have  had  to  go  over  the  road  on  which 
the  race  arrives  at  its  perfection,  for  only  so  do  their 
results  become  livingly  his  own.  It  may  lie  in  God's 
educational  plan,  to  let  imperfect  truths  at  first  sway 
the  world,  in  order  gradually  to  clarify  them — " 

"  But  there  does  not  appear  to  be  any  reason  in 
the  nature  of  things  why  error  and  halfness  should 
at  first  prevail,  why  the  direct  way — " 

"  Because  it  is  not  true  that  the  straight  way  is 
the  shortest.  Providence  has,  on  its  eternal  road, 
so  much  to  take  along  with  it,  so  many  side  steps  to 
take.  The  world  is  the  life  of  multiplicities,  of  in- 
dividualities. The  holy  sources  and  traditions  are 
the  elementary  books  of  humanity,  the  revelations 
are  the  foregone  results  of  the  truths  of  reason, 
which  are  to  be  such  in  time;  they  are  the  amount 
which  the  arithmetical  teacher  tells  his  scholars  be- 


AN  EVENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  279 

forehand,  that  they  may  calculate  by  it;  they  are  the 
rules  which  a  father  gives  his  child  as  law,  that  he 
may  find  them  himself  later  in  life  and  verify  thera 
out  of  his  own  experience.  We  must  wait  patiently. 
Beware,  thou  moi-e  capable  individual,  how  tliou 
stampest  and  flamest  at  the  last  leaf  of  the  element- 
ary book;  beware  how  thou  let'st  thy  weaker  fellow- 
pupils  perceive  what  thou  f  orebodest  or  already  be- 
ginn'st  to  see." 

"This  pietistic  regard  is  beautiful,"  said  Mendels- 
sohn, "but  I  cannot  allow  any  valid  ground  for  it, 
for  do  you  believe  that  humanity  will  ever  be  able 
to  attain  what  floats  before  you  as  the  goal  of  what 
you  term  the  divine  education?" 

And  Lessing  with  out-spread  hands  cried: 
"  Shall  humanity  never  come  to  the  highest  stage 
of  enlightenment  and  purification?  Never?  Let 
me  not  think  this  blasphemy,  Gracious  One  !  There 
will  come  a  new  and  everlasting  gospel  for  humanity, 
ripened  into  manhood,  which  shall  no  more  need  the 
elementary  books,  which  will  and  must  do  what  is 
good,  no  longer  for  the  sake  of  arbitrary  rewards, 
which  are  assigned  to  it,  but  for  its  own  sake,  simjily 
because  it  is  good." 

"  It  will  be  hard  for  me,"  said  Mendelssohn,  "  to 
set  myself  in  opposition  to  your  Messianic  inspira- 
tion, and  yet  I  cannot  help  it.  As  in  the  state  man 
is  the  end,  and  society  the  means,  so,  also,  in  the 
greatest  unity,  the  one  under  consideration.  New 
human  beings  are  ever  coming  on  the  stage,  and 
their  progress  is  not  essentially  conditioned  by  the 


280  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

State  of  the  community.  I  have  no  idea  of  this  edu- 
cation of  the  human  race  you  talk  of.  One  repre- 
sents to  himself  the  collective  thing — the  human 
race — as  a  single  person,  and  fancies  Providence  has 
sent  it  hither  as  if  to  school,  to  be  trained  up  from 
child  to  man.  The  fact  is,  the  human  race  is,  in  al- 
most all  ages,  if  the  metaphor  may  be  allowed,  child 
and  man  and  old  man  at  once,  only  in  different 
places  and  quarters  of  the  world.  The  individual 
advances,  but  that  the  whole  of  humanity  here  below 
must  be  always  going  forward  and  perfecting  itself 
does  not  seem  to  me  to  have  been  the  object  of 
Providence,  at  least  that  is  far  from  being  so  clearly 
made  out  and  so  necessary  to  the  vindication  of 
Providence  as  one  loves  to  imagine.  Man  advances, 
but  humanity  fluctuates  continually  up  and  down 
between  fixed  limits,  and  maintains,  on  the  wdiole, 
regarded  in  all  periods  of  time,  about  the  same  grade 
of  morality,  the  same  measure  of  religion  and  irre- 
ligion,  of  virtue  and  vice,  of  happiness  and  misery- 
and  in  fact  needs  as  much  as  the  individual  for  his 
education  here  below  does,  in  order  to  approach,  as 
near  as  is  allotted  him,  to  perfection." 

Lessing  had  just  collected  himself  to  reply  to  this 
view  of  a  question,  forever  dividing  the  world  of 
thinkers,  where  on  the  one  side  humanity  with  its 
recognizable  joint-life  and  in  itself  is  held  to  be  the 
problem  and  end  of  its  development,  while  on  the 
other  hand  the  individual  man  is  made  the  promi- 
nent end,  and  his  development  into  an  indefinite  re- 
gion is  the  chief  object  of  contemplation;  but — and 


AN  E  VENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.   281 

this  is  prophetically  significant  for  Lessing's  life — he 
was  interrupted  by  the  theologue,  for  Lavater  came 
to  the  front  Avith  the  question: 

"  You  deny  then  the  eternal  validity  of  the  Bible 
and  the  divinity  of  the  Saviour?" 

"Deny!  Deny!"  rejoined  Lessing.  "O  you  in- 
quisitors !  But  even  if  one  does  deny  the  divinity 
of  the  Bible,  is  the  Bible  religion  ?  The  inner  truth 
of  all  religion,  and  so,  too,  of  Christianity,  still 
stands,  though  all  that  is  external  and  the  Bible 
itself  should  fall.  Were  this  not  so,  then  all  the 
human  beings  who  had  lived  for  four  thousand  years 
before  Christ  are  damned.  Christ  presented  himself 
to  his  disciples  as  Kedeemer  and  Restorer  of  the 
Jewish  kingdom,  and  not  till  after  his  death  was  he 
sealed  as  the  purely  spiritual  Saviour.  This  happened 
not  in  the  way  of  intentional  deception,  but  devel- 
oped itself  in  the  natural  course  of  history.  Wheth- 
er Christ  was  more  than  man  is  a  problem;  that  he 
was  very  man,  is  established.  Consequently  the  re- 
ligion of  Christ  and  the  Christian  religion  are  two 
quite  different  things.  The  religion  of  Christ  is  that 
which  he  himself,  as  man,  also  recognized  and 
practiced,  which  every  man  can  have  in  common 
with  him  —  and  tliat  is  love  and  humanity;  the 
Christian  religion  is  that  which  assumes  it  as  true 
that  he  was  more  than  man,  and  which  makes  him  as 
such  an  object  of  its  worship.  Spinoza  before  me 
lays  great  emphasis  on  the  fact  that  religion  is  inde- 
pendent of  the  Bible,  and  he  justly   points  to  the 


282  FOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

place  where  it  is  said  of  the  eternal  law:  *  '  It  was  in 
the  world  and  the  world  knew  it  not;'  which  is  the 
true  religion  must  be  decided  by  the  fruit  of  con- 
duct, not  otherwise." 

"I  know,"  Lavater  still  rej^lied,  "every  one  sees 
the  universe  through  his  own  universe.  Do  you 
imagine  in  this  way  to  attain  to  salvation  and  eter- 
nal truth  ?  " 

"To  truthfulness^''  rej^lied  Lessing,  "and  this 
alone  is  enough.  Thousands  hold  the  place  to  be 
the  goal  of  their  thinking,  which  they  happen  to 
have  reached  w^hen  they  were  tired  of  thinking. 
But  one  must  precisely  there  gird  up  his  loins  afresh 
— inexorable  to  all  pleas  of  laziness  and  comfort,  on 
his  guard  against  custom  and  tradition.  Let  every 
one  speak  what  is  truth  to  him,  and  leave  the  truth 
itself  in  trust  with '  God,  Not  the  truth  which  a 
man  presumes  to  be  possessed  of,  but  the  sincere  en- 
deavor he  has  used  to  come  at  the  truth,  makes  the 
worth  of  man.  For  not  by  the  possession,  but  by 
the  pursuit  of  truth,  are  the  faculties  expanded — 
possession  makes  one  quiet,  lazy,  proud — " 

"  Have  you  not  here  caught  yourself  in  a  contra- 
diction?" asked  Mendelssohn,  making  a  sign  with 
his  finger.  "You  adopt,  wdth  me,  Leibnitz's  indi- 
viduation in  opposition  to  Spinoza's  universal  sub- 
stance, and  yet  you  come  back  again  with  your  col- 
lective or  even  unitarian  humanity  to  the  universal 
substance,  and  lose  the  individual.  You  were  going 
to  assign  to  humanity  the  conceivable  attainment  of 

*  The  Logos. 


ANE  VENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.    283 

its  eiul,  therefore,  absolute  triitli  anft»^^a] 
now  do  you  content  yourself  with  the  re 
jective  ?  " 

"Possibly  the  progress  of  knowledge  may  let 
that  which  we  contemplate  as  complete  have  only 
a  conditional  existence;  every  step  in  life  is  transi- 
tion and  terminus  at  once." 

"In  the  walk  of  life  the  pleasant  road  is  an  end, 
of  itself,"  remarked  Maimon,  and  Lessing  continued: 

"It  is  only  enthusiasts  who  can  not  wait  the  fut- 
ure.    The  ripe  manhood  of  humanity — " 

"  At  last,  at  last,  thank  Heaven,  you  have  come," 
cried  Gleim,  rising  up,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  to- 
ward the  door;  "only  come  nearer,  Fran  Karsch; 
chase  out  with  your  muse  Christianity  and  Judaism 
and  philosophy,  and  let  us  be  joyous  like  the  igno- 
rant heathen." 

The  ladies  present  quickly  clustered  around  the 
entering  poetess;  they  seemed,  notwithstanding  all 
their  respect  for  the  men  and  their  words,  glad,  nev- 
ertheless, to  be  relieved  of  the  discussion,  which  had 
by  such  singular  involutions  lost  itself  in  the  most 
uncanny  realms  of  inquiry.  The  men  seemed,  on  the 
contrary,  to  feel  that  dissatisfaction  which  at  the 
unavoidable  interruption  of  an  oral  discussion  al- 
ways causes  it  to  end  without  a  firm  final  accord. 

Lessing  sat  with  his  arms  crossed  upon  his  breast, 
and  looked  downward. 

Doctor  Bloch  said  softly  to  Ephraim  in  remem- 
brance of  their  purpose:  "When  a  general,  as  in  old 
times,  decides  the  battle  for  himself  alone  in  single 


284  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

combat,  we  soldiers'  boys  must  modestly  retire  into 
the  background." 

Ephraim  could  not  reply,  his  feelings  were  too 
much  agitated. 

Only  Maimon  seemed  in  the  midst  of  all  to  have 
kejit  his  characteristic  humor,  for  he  said :  "  Such 
religious  conversations  are  to  me  always  as  if  one 
were  performing  in  a  dream  a  heavy,  painful  labor; 
one  wakes  up  bathed  in  perspiration,  weary  and 
bruised  in  all  his  limbs,  and  yet  has  brought  nothing 
under  way.  Is  it  not  so?  Where  are  we  now? 
Where  we  were.  He  is  a  parson,  you  are  a  doctor, 
you  a  rich  man,  and  I  a  poor  Schlemihl.  The  forms 
of  religion  are  nothing  but  empty  nests,  in  which 
one  has  hatched  truths;  the  young  have  flown  off  and 
must  build  themselves  new  nests.  Where?  How? 
Let  them  see  to  that.  In  the  place  where  I  live  they 
once  put  an  intoxicated  man  into  a  dark  cellar  and 
surrounded  him  with  none  but  people  in  grave- 
clothes;  when  he  wakes  up  he  imagines  nothing  else 
than  that  lie  is  dead,  and  asks  the  oldest:  You,  you, 
must  be  well  acquainted  here  in  heaven — say,  where 
can  I  get  a  good  glass  of  brandy?  What  can  I 
make  of  all  your  philosophizing!  I,  too,  ask: 
Wliere.can  one  get  in  life  a  good  glass  of  brandy?" 

The  grotesque  capers  of  Maimon's  thoughts  brought 
back  cheerfulness  and  gayety  to  these  exhausted 
minds,  and  all  found  themselves  again  in  the  accus- 
tomed world.  All  crowded  round  the  Frau  Karsch, 
for  her  appearance,  as  of  one  who  had  not  participated 
in  the  recent  discussion,  gave  the  wholesome  shock 


AN  E  VENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.  285 

to  every  one,  which  reminded  him  of  another  life 
out  in  tlie  world  and  in  his  own  being. 

The  silken  dress  of  Frau  Karsch  rustled  conspicu- 
ously in  her  somewhat  rustic  movements;  her  face 
was  sad  and  excited,  her  cheeks  burned  visibly,  her 
eyes  rested  often  with  melancholy  love  on  Gleim,  for 
she  loved  her  Thyrsis  hopelessly. 

Ephraim  greeted  her  as  an  acquaintance  of  earlier 
times,  and  stood  by  as  she  assured  Mendelssohn  that 
she  found  his  criticism  of  her  poems  thoroughly 
just,  only  men  were  too  hard,  and  that  the  remark 
that  an  accidental  stroke  of  the  brush  might  happily 
imitate  the  light  foam  on  a  horse's  bit,  but  could 
never  produce  a  rose,  was  one  which  it  took  her  a 
long  time  to  get  over.  With  discreet  wit  Mendels- 
sohn replied^hat  it  was  a  peculiarity  of  critics  to 
keep  in  memory  their  little  malicious  discharges  less 
than  the  poets  do  who  are  the  subjects  of  their 
strictures. 

Ephraim  saw  Recha  alone  and,  turning  to  her  sud- 
denly, said  that  he  was  almost  ashamed  in  the  midst 
of  the  most  elevated  discussions  to  think  of  himself, 
and  yet  he  looked  upon  it  as  an  inexpressible  bless- 
ing now  in  the  invisible  church  of  the  spirit  to  kneel 
down  and  gain  a  new  being. 

Pie  handed  Recha  the  letter.  She  took  it  trem- 
bling and  with  downcast  eyes  and  quickly  mingled 
again  in  the  company,  in  which  the  most  careless 
gayety  now  reigned. 

Contrary  to  all  usual  custom,  it  was  near  mid- 
night when  the  company  left  Mendelssohn's  house. 


286  POE T  AND  MER CHA NT. 

The  moon  shone  clear,  tlie  houses  across  the  street 
threw  dark  shadows.  They  talked  of  the  surprising 
meeting  of  so  many  old  acquaintances. 

"Pray,  tell  me,  dear  Mr.  Kuh,"  said  Lessing,  "you 
had  an  extremely  lovely  sister;  1  have  often  thought 
of  her  with  the  deepest  interest;  what  has  become 
of  her?" 

"  She  is  married  here  in  Berlin." 

"  Has  she  children  ?  " 

"No." 

At  that  moment  there  glided  out  of  the  shadow  of 
the  opposite  houses  a  veiled  figure  and  disappeared 
round  the  corner.  No  one  dreamed  that  it  was  Vio- 
let, who  had  stood  there  looking  up  at  the  bright 
windows;  she  darted  through  the  streets,  fearing 
Lessing  might  have  recognized  and  followed  her. 
Not  till  she  opened  her  house-door  did  she  look 
round,  and  was  not  after  all  very  glad  to  perceive 
that  she  had  only  trembled  at  her  own  imagination. 

Lessing  spoke  with  warmth  of  the  lively  interest 
of  Jewish  matrons  and  maidens  in  intellectual  pro- 
ductions and  expressions  generally,  and  the  awaken- 
ing of  a  German  national  literature  in  particular,  and 
said  that  a  similar  sympatliy  was  seldom  found  in 
the  corresponding  circles  of  Christian  society.  Eph- 
raim  added  the  explanation  that  the  social  and  po- 
litical sympathies  lying  fallow  turned  over  all  their 
vitality  into  that  field;  exclusion  from  direct  life 
created  an  exaff<i:erated  inclination  for  the  more  vivid 
reflection  of  it  in  poesy;  and  with  the  echo  of  this 
evening's  discussion  vibrating  in  his  soul  he  cou- 


I 


AN  EVENING  WITH  MOSES  MENDELSSOHN.    287 

eluded  that  the  reason  why  the  Jews  were  in  every 
respect  more  wakeful  to  every  flutter  of  the  divine 
genius's  wing  was  that  they  still  turned  in  every  di- 
rection their  waiting  eyes  for  the  Messiah. 

Ephraim  now  remained  the  only  speaker,  and  he 
spoke  with  the  more  freedom  and  inspiration  tliat 
no  one  looked  in  his  face.  lie  disclosed  his  longing, 
after  such  a  revelation,  that  he  might  gain  a  new 
life,  follow  a  master  and  do  all  for  his  pleasure; 
whereas  now  nothing  remained  but  to  resume  to- 
morrow the  old  mode  of  life. 

Lessing  was  the  only  one  w^ho  answered. — The 
master  whom  one  now  followed,  he  observed,  was 
the  thought  of  truth;  the  way  in  which  the  spirit 
now  showed  itself  could  not  at  once  bring  with  it  a 
new  change  of  life;  the  great  thing  was  to  affirm  it 
in  individual  and  seemingly  secluded  forms  of  ac- 
tivity. 

At  the  house  of  Frau  Karsch  the  party  separated. 
Ephraim  still  accompanied  Lessing  to  his  dwelling 
at  the  Nicolai  church-yard.  Lessing  pressed  his 
hand  in  silence,  but  Ephraim  would  not  yet  let  go, 
and  complained  that  it  seemed  to  him  a  sin  to  go  to 
bed  now;  he  would  gladly  keep  awake  henceforth 
and  forever,  and  live  on  in  this  way  uninterruptedly 
till  death  in  holy  enthusiasm. 

And  as  it  often  happens  tliat  one  knows  no  other 
way  of  requiting  an  ardent  affection  than  by  ex- 
pressing one's  innermost  motives  and  purposes,  and 
imparting  them  to  those  to  whom  no  inner  impulse 
would  otherwise  have  drawn  us,  so  now  did  Lessing 


288  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

perform  this  act  of  involuntary  confidence,  by  relat- 
ing to  Epliraim  how  he  had  "  stood  asking  work  in 
the  market  place;"  how,  at  the  exhortation  of  his 
friends,  only  with  the  greatest  repugnance  he  had  ap- 
plied for  a  place  in  the  royal  library,  that  Quintus 
Icilius  (Guichard)  had  nominated,  but  King  Frederick 
had  twice  rejected  him.  Lessing  spoke  of  it  as  a  satis- 
faction that  he  had  tried  to  do  what  seemed  to  him 
a  duty  of  life,  but  said  he  was  well  content  not  to 
come  under  "  the  slavery  of  office,"  and  that  now  he 
should  settle  in  Hamburg. 

Lessing  went  with  Ephraim  a  little  way  farther, 
and  the  latter  escorted  him  back  again. 

It  seemed  as  if  Ephraim  could  not  tear  himself 
away  from  the  height  of  existence  which  he  had  now 
ascended;  and  when  at  last  he  went  homeward 
alone,  there  came  over  him  a  presentiment  of  the 
most  painful  desolation.  He  was  alone  in  the  world. 
The  flower  of  his  life  had  bloomed  and  withered. 

But  did  not  love,  then,  beckon? 


J 


19.— SUICIDE. 

OTHE  blissful  waking,  the  child-like  smile  of 
recognition  at  the  brightly  breaking  morn. 
Thou  feelest  as  if  thou  coulclst  shout  for  joy  into  the 
young  sunlight;  fresh  waves  of  light  course  through 
the  veins;  thou  wishest  thyself  the  pinions  of  an 
eagle,  to  soar  away  over  the  transfigured  earth — and 
dost  thou  ask:  What  is  it  that  wakes  in  me  a  thou- 
sand new  lives  and  cleanses  and  new-creates  me  and 
the  world?  It  is  love  which  has  sent  her  blissful 
spirit  to  thee  in  dream,  to  sing  their  heavenly  har- 
monies into  thy  soul. 

Whoso  has  ever  been  made  blest,  whether  by  the 
favor  of  fortune,  by  a  prosperous  deed,  or  by  the 
deliverance  of  the  inner  man,  summoning  the  energy 
of  life  to  fresh  proof  of  itself,  such  a  one  knows 
that  the  first  opening  of  the  eyes,  the  waking  hour, 
unlocks  anew  all  the  treasures  of  happiness,  and  calls 
the  soul  to  a  pure  communion  with  the  transfigured 
world. 

Thus  did  Ephraim  awake  on  the  following  morn- 
ing; the  sun  beamed  as  bright  and  friendly  through 


290  POET  AND  MERCHANT, 

the  chamber  as  if  it  celebrated  with  him  his  bridal 
morning.  He  was  obliged  to  attend  to  the  business 
and  cares  of  the  day;  he  did  so  with  a  quiet  obedi- 
ence, nay  he  was  even  glad  to  have  an  outward  oc- 
cupation. No  one  in  the  house  observed  what  was 
going  on  with  hira,  and  why  he  was  to-day  so  exceed- 
ingly gay,  and  the  next  moment  smiled  to  himself 
silently;  Matilda  alone  guessed  the  true  reason,  for 
she  saw  how  sedulously  he  avoided  meeting  her  or 
exchanging  with  her  a  single  word. 

In  the  midst  of  his  joyful  suspense  and  strain  of 
feeling,  it  was  a  comfort  to  him  to  watch  by  Eman- 
uel's sick-bed.  It  seemed  to  him  like  a  divine 
service  before  receiving  his  good  fortune,  a  lowly 
offering  in  the  fore-court. 

One  evening  when  he  entered  Emanuel's  chamber, 
he  found  a  man  whom  the  latter  always  called 
brother,  and  who  played  to  him  on  the  violin.  In  spite 
of  the  August  heat,  the  stranger  wore  a  heavy  old 
military  cloak,  above  which  rose  a  face  that  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  wasted  in  a  prison,  and  was  sur- 
mounted by  a  bald  skull;  in  the  twilight  that 
reigned  in  the  chamber,  he  appeared  like  a  night- 
spectre,  and  at  every  sweep  of  the  bow  his  features 
distorted  themselves  and  his  whole  body  under  the 
flapping  cloak  seemed  to  fall  into  convulsions. 
When  the  stranger  observed  Ephraim,  he  laid  aside 
the  violin,  gave  Emanuel  his  hand,  and  departed. 

"  There  is  no  misfortune  so  great,"  said  Emanuel, 
"but  there  is  a  still  greater  to  which  it  must  yield 
the  palm." 


SUICIDE.  291 

"That  is  what  I  call  pouring  gall  into  the  worm- 
wood potion  to  sweeten  it.  What  is  the  name  of 
the  man  who  just  went  away  ?  " 

"  It  is  even  he  of  whom  I  speak.  I  remember  him 
still  in  the  good  old  times.  Hast  thou  never  yet 
heard  of  the  man  to  whom  Berlin,  at  the  time  it  was 
occupied  by  the  Russians  and  Austrians,  owed 
everything,  in  whose  house  they  not  only  deposited 
the  moneys  of  the  congregation,  but  even  private 
persons  placed  their  possessions  in  safe  keeping;  who 
was  a  truly  patriotic  citizen,  to  whom  the  magis- 
trate himself  bore  witness  that  he  had  given  an 
example  without  example,  and  who  yet  was  shame- 
fully betrayed  ?  Hast  thou  never  heard  of  the  rich 
John  Gotzkowski?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  I  cannot  comprehend  how  it  is 
that  he  still  lives." 

*'  Because  he  is  not  yet  dead,"  answered  Emanuel, 
who  turned  to  the  wall  and  gave  no  further  answer 
to  any  of  Ephraim's  words. 

On  the  third  day,  at  noon,  Ephraim  sat  sad  and 
disturbed  in  his  chamber;  he  wrote  a  letter,  not  to 
take  leave  of  any  one,  but  to  dispose  of  his  property, 
of  which  he  bequeathed  a  third  to  Emanuel  and  the 
other  two-thirds  to  Matilda;  the  amount  which 
Trevirano  owed  him  he  remitted  to  him.  He  locked 
up  the  papers  in  his  desk  and  went  down  to  his 
uncle's  keeping-room.  Matilda  sat  alone  at  the 
window,  sewing. 

"May  I  not  know,  then,  what  ails  you?"  she 
asked;  "trust  me,  I  can  do  much.  I  would  go  for 
you  as  far  as  my  feet  will  carry  me." 


292  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"I  thank  you,  dear  Matilda,"  rejoined  Ephraira, 
"  I  must  make  the  rest  of  this  journey  for  myself 
and  by  myself  alone,  but  tell  me:  have  I  then  a  bill 
of  lading  in  my  face,  so  that  every  one  knows  what 
is  in  me?     Do  I  then  look  so  sad  ?" 

Matilda  could  not  so  readily  answer.  At  that  word 
"  dear  "  which  Ephraim  had  just  used  for  the  first 
time,  instead  of  his  usual  "good  Matilda,"  she  had 
suddenly  started  and  thereby  pricked  her  finger  and 
was  now  sucking  the  blood. 

"  Ah  God  ! "  she  said  at  last,  "  you  look  as  if  you 
were  going  to  your  death  !" 

"Really?  That  is  true;  and  I  am  always  going 
to  my  death;  have  I  lived  to-day?  No,  I  have  died 
to-day;  our  life  is  only  a  creeping  to  the  grave  ! 
How  Avould  it  be,  Matilda,  if  I  should  die  to-day  ?  " 

Matilda  could  not  answer  for  sobbing  and  weep- 
ing. "I  do  not  understand  what  you  are  thinking 
of,"  said  she,  finally,  "but  I  feel  so  anxious,  so 
anxious.     I  conjure  you  to  be  frank  with  me." 

Ephraim  gazed  on  her  with  a  melancholy  look, 
then  turned  away  with  a  deep  sigh.  At  the  door  he 
stopped,  as  if  he  would  once  more  turn  back,  but  sud- 
denly he  collected  himself  and  ran  down  the  steps. 
Matilda  looked  after  him,  as  he  went  up  the  street;  he 
turned  round.  She  thought  at  that  distance  she 
saw  a  tear  glimmering  in  his  eye.  Quickly  Matilda 
shut  down  the  window,  tossed  the  bunch  of  keys 
which  hung  from  her  apron  into  a  corner  of  the 
chamber,  threw  her  cloak  over  her  and  stole  after 
Ephraim. 


SUICIDE.  293 

Twilight  had  long  since  set  in,  when  Ephraim 
turned  into  Spandaii  street  and  entered  the  house  of 
Mendelssohn;  he  found  Recha  and  her  sister,  with 
several  other  women,  and  a  lively  little  girl  of  about 
five,  sitting  around  the  tea-table.  Recha  turned 
deathly  pale  at  the  sight  of  Ephraim.  However,  she 
rose  instantly,  handed  him  a  cup  of  tea,  and  with- 
drew to  an  adjoining  room,  from  which,  however, 
she  soon  returned;  but  at  the  threshold  of  the  door 
she  breathed  into  her  handkerchief  and  pressed  it  to 
her  eyes.  Ephraim  saw  that  she  must  have  been 
weeping. 

The  ladies  were  intellectual  and  aesthetic;  the 
conversation  turned  upon  the  theatre.  The  Cinder- 
ella at  the  Court  of  Frederick,  German  Poesy,  was 
suddenly,  through  Lessing,  greeted  in  her  splendor. 
Dobbelin  had  conquered  all  obstacles,  and  it  was 
an  unprecedented  event,  that  six  times  in  succession 
and  each  time  with  increasing  interest,  Lessing's 
masterpiece,  "  Minna  von  Barnhelm,"  had  appeared 
on  the  boards. 

All  were  under  the  overmastering  spell  of  the 
work  which,  drawn  from  life,  acted  upon  life  and 
moved  men's  souls  by  holding  up  to  them  the  mirror 
of  their  own  being.  But  one  is  always,  to  be  sure, 
more  important  in  a  critical  attitude  than  in  inspired 
self-surrender,  and  so  some  of  the  ladies  did  not  find 
a  proper  gout  in  the  piece,  because  there  was  not 
enough  in  it  to  laugh  at.  One  burly  dame,  as 
rotund  as  she  was  sensitive,  who  had  never  yet  tied 
a  shoe-string  with  her  own  hands,  .turned    up  her 


294  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

nose  because  there  was  so  mucli  talk  of  that  prosaic 
thing,  money,  in  the  piece;  she  ridiculed  the  pawn- 
ing of  the  ring,  and  the  full  pockets  of  the  sergeant. 
Another  lady  smiled  at  the  luxury  of  magnanimity 
displayed,  and  incidentally  at  the  reference  which 
Lessing  had  woven  in,  to  his  native  Saxony,  and  that 
it  was  surely  improper,  the  way  Minna  threw  herself 
upon  the  neck  of  that  noble  Tellheim.  A  native 
Saxon  woman  observed,  however,  that  Lessing  had 
also  expressed  in  the  character  of  the  Count  of 
Bruchsal  the  regret  of  a  non-Prussian,  that  Freder- 
ick the  Great  was  not  the  hero  of  all  the  Germans. 
Meanwhile  they  passed  from  this  subject  and 
discussed  the  question  why  Lessing  should  term 
coffee  a  melancholy  beverage.  One  lady  who 
affected  great  modesty  explained  timidly  that 
Lessing  was  this  Tellheim  himself,  that  he  had  once 
loved  a  countess.  She  played  the  mysterious, 
and  assumed  an  air  of  secret  intelligence,  but 
asserted  that  she  could  not  say  more,  as  she  must 
use  discretion. 

Once  more  the  conversation  came  back  to  a 
question  touching  the  main  point  of  the  piece,  when 
they  sought  to  ascertain  whether  Lessing  had  con- 
ceived Tellheim  as  a  born  prince,  llecha  was 
disposed  decidedly  to  deny  it;  she  appealed  to  the 
bitter  mention  of  Othello,  and  to  that  final  expla- 
nation of  Tellheim's,  when  he  says:  "I  became  a 
soldier  from  partiality,  I  know  not  to  what  political 
principles,  and  from  the  whim  that  it  was  well  for 
any  honest  man  to  try  himself  for  a  while  in  that 


SUICIDE.  295 

calling,  in  order  to  familiarize  himself  with  all  that 
is  called  danger,  and  to  learn  coolness  and  decision. 
Only  the  extremest  necessity  could  have  constrained 
me  to  change  this  trial  into  a  destination,  this 
occasional  occupation  into  a  trade."  She  spoke  with 
much  spirit  of  the  soldier's  life,  and  how  Tellheini 
must  be  a  man  of  sensibility,  because  the  final 
result  of  this  war  had  been  nothing  but  honor,  and 
no  change  in  the  state  of  the  world  bearing  upon 
human  freedom. 

Ephraim  smiled  bitterly  that  Recha  could  now  en- 
ter upon  a  foreign  subject  with  such  coolness  and 
composure,  now  when  a  question  of  life  and  death 
was  pending. 

He  constrained  himself,  however,  to  enter  into  the 
conversation,  and  explained  that  Lessing  had  indeed 
expressly  designated  Major  Tellheim  as  a  native  Cur- 
lander,  as  the  servant  just  said  the  Major  had  sent 
him  twicfe  in  six  months  to  his  family  in  Curland. 

Recha  expressed  her  thanks  with  peculiar  friend- 
liness for  this  new  light;  she  seemed  full  of  zeal,  and 
when  the  conversation  turned  again  from  the  poet- 
ry to  the  poet,  and  faint  attempts  were  made  to  find 
flaws  in  him,  Recha  said  with  a  glowing  counte- 
nance: 

"Lessing  unites  in  himself  the  noblest  qualities: 
clear  understanding  and  profound  warmth  of  heart, 
nay,  passionateness  for  his  convictions;  calm,  mild 
judgment  and  unbending  integrity  of  character;  un- 
swerving firmness  and  gracious  tenderness.  I  owe 
to  him  a  great  life-maxim,  which  he  has  perhaps  for- 


296  POET  A ND  MER CHA NT. 

gotten,  for  he  once  said  in  an  ojff-hand  way:  *  Many- 
men  take  excitableness  for  feeling.'  " 

Does  that  mean  me  ?  Ephraim  asked  himself.  In 
this  portrayal  is  she  holding  up  to  me  a  mirror? 
But  Kecha  now  turned  to  him  with  the  concluding 
words : 

"I  know  you  also  venerate  Lessing  with  all  your 
soul." 

Ephraim  nodded  assent  and  succeeded  in  rising 
above  the  sense  of  being  hurt,  that  Recha  had  praised 
so  highly  before  him  another,  however  highly  placed; 
nay,  he  even  raised  himself  to  the  pure  devotion 
which  joyfully  does  honor  to  a  true  spirit,  and  with 
this  feeling  he  now  said:    • 

"  In  Lessing's  country  there  are  in  the  mines  men 
whom  they  call  markers ;  they  know  how,  deep  down, 
in  the  dark  shaft,  to  determine  exactly  where  in  the 
daylight  the  boundaries  of  the  several  fields  begin, 
and  whoever  calls  a  piece  of  earth  his  own,  to  him 
belongs  so  far  as  it  reaches,  all,  even  up  to  heaven, 
and  down  to  the  most  unfathomable  depths." 

Ephraim  turned  a  glowing  eye  upon  Recha,  and 
collecting  himself,  again  went  on :  "  So,  too,  is  Les- 
sing a  marker  in  the  realm  of  mind;  he  knows  how, 
in  the  most  nightly  depth,  where,  in  the  light  over- 
head, is  a  church,  a  hovel,  a  palace,  and  where  the 
bounds  of  an  individual  property;  and  he  also  de- 
cides and  divides  rightly." 

With  still  glow,  the  look  of  Recha  rested  on  Eph- 
raim, and  it  seemed  as  if  the  two  lovers  found  them- 
selves in  the  joint  veneration  of  an  exalted  man  as 


SUICIDE.  297 

before  an  altar.  But  the  world  seems  not  to  recog- 
nize, or  absolutely  to  deny,  the  shrme  in  the  midst 
of  its  commonplace  life. 

After  a  short  pause  they   glided  away  over  all 
deeper  suggestions,  and  the  ladies  soon  came  in  the 
course  of  their  " entertainment "  upon  another  theme; 
one  of  them,  in  whose  house  Professor  Ramler  lived, 
in  the  upper  story,  asserted  that  every  time  the  Pro- 
fessor walked,  she  knew  by  his  step  in  what  metre 
he  was  at  that  moment  composing  his  verses.     All 
giggled;  they  went  on  to  talk  of  Voltaire  and  the 
Marquis  D'Argens,  and  told  how  one  had  no  time 
nowadays  to  read  all  the  interessant  things,  because 
household  affairs  were  so  engrossing;  and  now  they 
passed  on  to  the  subject  of  washing.     Ephraim  took 
Mendelssohn's  little  child  in  his  lap.     "My  sweet 
lady,"  he  said  to  the  child,  "  do  you  prefer  to  read 
Richardson,  Yorick,  Klopstock,  or  Diderot?     You 
probably  prefer  the  former;  ah!  and  Marmontelle, 
and  Gessner  and  Wieland !    and    Shakespeare    and 
La  Fontaine  !     I  tell  you  one  cannot  be  a  perfect 
German  lady  so  long  as  one  reads  German;  every- 
body, to  be  sure,  understands  German.     Who  will 
have  anything  to  do  with  that  ?     I  tell  you  this  Thu- 
ringian  Minna  von  Barnhelm  is  a  barbarian;    else 
how  could  she  say  that,  in  Germany,  one  must  speak 
German  with  a  Frenchman?     She  certainly  has  a 
very  bad  accent.     The  Deutsch  speak  is  a  clumsy 
speak.     [Die  deutsch  Sprak  ist  eine  plump  Sprak.] 
Mademoiselle  parle  fran5ais.     Mais  sans  doute:  telle 
que  je   le    vols.     La   demande  etait  bien  impolie," 


298  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Ephraim  quickly  set  the  child  down  out  of  his  lap. 
she  flew  to  her  mother;  the  ladies  smiled  at  the  odd 
children's  friend;  only  Recha  blinked  uneasily  with 
her  eyes  and  chewed  at  a  corner  of  her  handkerchief. 
The  conversation  resumed  its  full  tide,  for  all  the 
sluices  of  city  news  were  opened;  Ephraim  moved 
despairingly  back  and  forth  in  his  seat;  at  last  he 
rose,  and  stepping  to  Recha,  said: 

"  My  young  lady,  I  have  some  words  to  say  to  you 
in  private;  will  you  follow  me  to  the  window  yon- 
der?" 

"Pray!—" 

"  What  do  you  wish  there  ?  "  asked  Frau  Mendels- 
sohn. 

"  I  speak  with  you  alone,  Recha,"  answered  Eph- 
raim, hurriedly,  without  looking  round  at  the  speaker. 
"You  must,  you  must  fulfill  my  request.  1  have  a 
right  to  demand  it  of  you." 

"You  want  a  criticism  of  your  poem,"  answered 
Recha,  trembling,  and  thrust  her  hand  into  her  work- 
bag.  "Here  it  is;  my  bitter  tears  which  have  fallen 
upon  it  may  be  an  all-sufficient  criticism  for  you. 
The  hero  is  a  glorious  man,  whom  we  must  respect, 
but  unhappily  he  is  the  victim  of  a  delusion.  I  wish, 
my  ladies,  that  Mr.  Kuh  would  read  you  something 
of  his  beautiful  poem." 

"What  is  the  subject  of  it?" 

"A  New  Archimedes;  but  it  is  too  hard  a  prob- 
lem that  one  heart  shall  compensate  for  the  whole 
world,  and  the  hero  must  first  ask  himself  whetlier 
he  stands  firmly  enough  on  his  own  feet  to  ask  for  a 
point  outside  of  the  earth.     The  hero  is  a  noble —  " 


SUICIDE.  299 

"Fool!"  Epbraim  completed  tlie  sentence  and 
snatched  the  letter  from  Kecha's  hand,  tore  it  in 
pieces  and  bit  it  with  his  teeth;  then  lie  gathered  the 
pieces  together  and  thrust  them  into  his  pocket,  broke 
out  into  a  peal  of  immoderate  laughter  which  was 
evidently  forced,  but  it  seemed  absolutely  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  come  to  an  end,  and  in  his  violent  mo- 
tions he  almost  upset  the  whole  tea-table. 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  one  die  of  laughing,"  he 
cried;  "excuse  me,  ladies,  but  it  is  enough  to  kill 
one  with  laughing.  It  is  the  story  of  a  foolish  ven- 
triloquist, who  fell  in  love  with  the  female  voice, 
which  he  himself  imitated;  and  the  super-wise  Miss 
Recha  has  let  her  tears  be  wrung  from  her  by  a 
shred  of  paper,  by  a  hero  out  of  the  inkstand;  it  is 
enough  to  make  one  die  with  laughing." 

"An  extraordinary  man,"  said  one  of  the  ladies, 
when  Ephraim  with  a  polite  bow  had  taken  his  leave. 
"  I  feared  he  had  become  crazy,"  said  another,  "for 
that  was  a  crazy  laugh." 

Meanwhile  Ephraim  had  left  the  house.  With 
hurried  step  he  made  his  way  toward  the  Spree,  to 
extinguish  his  lamp  of  life  in  its  waves.  A  hundred 
lines  of  thought  coiled  themselves  up  within  him; 
he  whistled  a  lively  tune;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  a 
heavy  hand  rested  upon  him  and  drove  him  on  w^ith- 
out  any  will  of  his  own;  and  yet  he  often  looked 
back  again,  as  if  a  magic  breath  turned  him  away; 
he  felt  that  his  good  genius  followed  him  and  called 
him  to  turn  back;  nay,  he  even  believed  he  continu- 
ally heard  steps  behind  him.     Had  he  noticed  more 


300  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

distinctly,  he  must  have  observed  that  a  veiled  figure 
followed  him  at  a  distance  ....  He  struck  into 
another  path. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Spree  wandered  moaning  a 
veiled  form;  it  knelt  down  in  prayer;  the  moon  hid 
herself  behind  clouds;  suddenly  it  raised  itself  up; 
it  heard  approaching  steps,  and  w^ith  a  cry  of  terror, 
sprang  into  the  flood;  the  waves  closed  over  it;  here 
and  there  might  have  been  heard  a  struggling  and  a 
splashing  in  the  water,  but  soon  all  was  still ;  the 
moon  shone  out  clear,  and  a  fisher  came  to  spread  his 
net. — 

O,  what  a  wretched  waking !  there  is  a  dreary 
w^hirl  of  frightful  grimaces  before  thy  sight.  Thou 
grin'st  at  the  sunlight  that  steals  to  thy  bed;  thou 
wouldst  gladly  make  the  day  blind;  the  wings  of  thy 
spirit  are  broken;  thou  hast  neither  the  power  nor 
the  will  to  rise;  thou  wouldst  fain  close  again  the 
gates  of  the  eye  upon  thy  awakened  consciousness; 
wouldst  sleep;  wouldst  die;  and  dost  thou  ask:  what 
is  it  that  has  crushed  and  shattered  thee  ?  It  is  lost 
love;  whether  by  deception  and  betrayal,  or  by  the 
power  of  circumstances,  the  robbery  has  been  accom- 
plished upon  thee;  into  thy  very  dreams  it  sends  its 
anguish  and  murders  thy  rest  and  thy  forgetting. 

Whoso  has  ever  experienced  a  heavy  sorrow, 
whoso  by  the  power  of  fate  or  by  any  fault  of  his 
own  has  been  cast  down  and  chained  down  in  the 
confused  whirl  of  life — such  a  one  knows  how  at 
the  first  opening  of  the  eyes,  in  the  hour  of  waking, 
the  calamity  suddenly  breaks  in  afresh  and  over  and 
over  again;  the  world  is  dead — dead  is  his  very  life. 


SUICIDE.  301 

Thus  did  Ephraim  awake  the  next  morning.  The 
servant-girl  from  Mendelssohn's  house  brought  the 
Petrarch  "  from  Ma'm'selle  Kccha  with  her  best  com- 
pliments." Once  he  would  have  envied  every  leaf 
and  every  letter  on  which  his  eye  rested,  and  now  he 
flung  the  book  into  a  corner,  for  she  had  touched  it. 
Trevirano  entered. 

"  Thou,  too,  hast  thy  share  of  blame  in  the  devilish 
tragedy,"  he  cried. 

"  What  art  thou  talking  about  ?  what  is  it  then  ?  " 

"Well,  thou  knowest  of  course,  that  the  mincing 
chamber-puss,  Matilda,  had  been  missing  from  home 
since  last  evening;  and  this  morning  a  fisher  has 
found  her  in  his  net  which  he  spread  out  upon  the 
Spree." 

Ephraim  could  not  answer;  whatever  Trevirano 
might  say,  he  remained  mute,  till  the  latter  at  last 
went  away  vexed;  now  at  length  he  could  groan  out 
loud;  a  flood  of  tears  rolled  off  from  his  soul  the 
heavy  load  of  anguish,  and  at  last  he  sank  worn-out 
and  exhausted  to  sleep.  It  was  past  noon  when  Eph- 
raim went  out.  He  would  have  redeemed  the  body 
of  Matilda  from  the  dissecting-table,  but  the  law 
was  rigid  and  could  not  be  evaded.  To  be  sure  he 
received  one  comfort  from  the  dissection;  the  sur- 
geons assured  him  unanimously  that  Matilda  had  suf- 
fered from  a  heart  complaint,  and  could  have  lived 
very  few  years  longer;  this  could  give  him,  how- 
ever, but  a  faint  satisfaction. 


20.— DEMOKALIZATION  AND  DEPARTURE. 

WEEKS  and  months  had  passed.  Matilda  had 
found  no  grave  which  bore  her  name;  she  was 
scraped  in  with  other  lost  ones  and  forgotten,  only 
Ephraim  at  times  still  remembered  her,  when  after  a 
night  of  revelry  he  awoke  in  the  morning  with  re- 
morse of  conscience. — Passion  and  Avill  conspired, 
and  he  persuaded  himself  that  he  bade  the  world 
defiance  and  w^ould  let  it  know  in  his  destruction 
what  it  had  lost  in  him,  and  yet  he  defied  no  one  ex- 
cept his  own  better  self,  which  the  w^orld  always 
sees  with  unconcern  go  to  the  bottom.  And  as  the 
sense  of  every  pain  announces  itself  first  in  that  i3art 
of  the  organism  where  a  malady  has  seated  itself, 
so  it  was  in  this  case.  "  Were  I  a  Christian,"  Eph- 
raim said  to  himself,  "  I  would  take  military  service, 
or  in  some  other  way  offer  myself  for  the  country 
and  public  life  and  hoQor;  now  that  the  public  way 
is  closed  against  me  as  a  Jew,  what  remains  for  me? 
Money-making  ?  It  has  no  attraction  for  me.  Science  ? 
To  be  sure,  into  her  sanctuary  no  arm  of  secular  or 
priestly  police  can  peneti:ate,  but  to  bury  one's  self 


DEHOR  A  LIZA  TION  A  ND  DEPAR  TURE.       303 

in  science  is  also  a  suicide,  only  of  a  more  respect- 
able sort, — nothing  therefore  is  left  me  but  to — 
merrily  live  and  joyfully  die  !  " 

Trevirano  was  a  faithful  boon  companion,  and  in- 
ventive in  devising  new  enjoyments,  which  he  knew 
how  to  serve  up  with  a  certain  noblesse^  with  an  un- 
impeachable grace.  He  took  Ephraim  into  the  soci- 
ety of  the  Italian  Singers,  where  the  Galiari  and  Bar- 
barine,  the  Ostroa  and  Salimbeni,  ravished  with 
song  and  gay  jest,  but  Ephraim  felt  himself  still 
more  attracted  by  Dobbelin's  theatrical  company 
in  which  a  dissolute  life  of  pleasure  was  overspread 
with  an  enchanting  veil  of  geniality.  In  cities  where 
a  dismemberment  of  society  presents  itself,  one  will 
very  frequently  find  that  Jewish  youths,  aspiring 
after  more  refined  and  free  enjoyments,  attach  them- 
selves to  the  play-actor's  life;  a  common  revolt 
against  the  dull  commonplace  of  society,  based  on 
different  reasons  yet  similar  in  its  manifestations, 
links  them  together;  those  repulsive  Jewish  dandies 
and  aesthetic  enthusiasts,  those  coffee-house  asstheti- 
cians,  off  with  tlie  tailor's  2^\^  friseur'' s  culture,  are  a 
natural,  though  a  sad  product  of  this  alliance. 

Ephraim  had  another  special  reason  for  being 
pleased  with  this  theatrical  life,  as  at  this  time,  when 
the  actors,  as  strolling  companies,  had  fully  separated 
themselves  from  general  society,  they  also  went  on 
their  way  freely  in  disregard  of  all  its  laws;  wanton 
young  officers,  young  officials  who  had  not  yet 
played  out  the  student,  old  worn-out  debauchees,  in 
short  all  that  felt  itself  constrained  in  the  pressure  of 


304  rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

society  and  excluded  and  outlawed  from  the  circle  of 
citizens,  gathered  here.  Especially  conspicuous  was 
an  elderly  but  extremely  attractive  Italian;  they 
called  him  bluntly  nothing  but  Chevalier;  he  had  only 
recently  arrived  in  Bei-lin  and  charmed  all  by  the 
grace  and  ease  of  his  deportment,  as  well  as  by  the 
lively  relation  of  his  almost  fabulous  adventures. 

In  this  society  outside  of  society  the  bitterest 
satire  was  indulged  against  the  life  and  doings  of 
the  so-called  Philistines;  they  laughed  and  jeered  at 
the  virtues  adorned  with  beauty-patches;  and  the 
whole  chaotic  whirl  of  demoralization;  witticisms 
and  puns  followed  clap  on  clap.  In  Ephraim  too 
the  epidemic  influence  soon  appeared  which  manifests 
itself  in  bacchanalian  wantonness.  At  first  only  for 
the  sake  of  not  appearing  prudish  and  pedantic  he 
joined  in  timidly,  but  soon  the  pleasure  of  such 
ways  overmastered  him,  and  when  he  had  once  given 
himself  up  to  it  he  was  borne  on  till  he  became  a 
spur  to  all  the  others.  He  fell  into  the  most  ruinous 
of  all  moods,  in  which  the  distortions  of  corruption 
are  contemplated  with  a  certain  complacency,  and 
one  dares  not  rest  till  he  has  scented  out  in  all  the 
j)henomena  of  life  the  hidden  drop  of  evil.  His 
original  and  borrowed  witticisms  transplanted  hither 
from  Jewish  regions  excited  surprise  by  their  for- 
eign flourishes,  and  Ephraim  soon  passed  in  this  so- 
ciety for  the  richest  wit. 

Returning  home  from  this  jovial  company,  in  the 
silence  of  solitude  Ephraim  almost  always  recognized 
the  burned-out  desolation  of  his   spirit;  of  all  the 


DEMORALIZA  TION  AND  DEPARTURE.       305 

laughter,  all  the  flashes  of  witticism  tliat  followed 
each  other  so  swiftly  peal  on  peal,  nothing  was  left 
beliind  that  could  sustain  his  inner  man  in  its  elastic 
gayety;  for  this  is  the  immediate  revenge  of  the 
spirit  against  its  maltreatment,  that  such  maltreat- 
ment is  dogged  by  the  spectres  of  remorse  and 
emptiness. 

A  large  portion  of  those  smaller  poems  in  which  he 
sharply  scourges  the  falseness  and  faithlessness  of 
women,  date,  however,  from  this  period;  neverthe- 
less, Ephraim  could  not  suddenly  break  off  his  ear- 
lier social  connections,  nay,  rather,  he  made  a  show 
of  his  altered  view  of  life;  he  would  fain  pass  for 
a  misanthrope  and  life-destroyer. 

As  that  gloomy  Spanish  king  caused  himself  to  be 
interred  in  broad  consciousness  that  he  might  know 
the  horror  of  the  grave,  the  funeral  pomp  and  the 
after-talk  of  men,  so  Ephraim  went  to  the  last  limits 
of  self-de^ruction.  He  felt  a  peculiar  melancholy 
satisfaction  when  any  one  reminded  him  of  his  intel- 
lectual qualities,  of  his  good  heart,  of  all  the  zeal  and 
exalted  endowments  of  his  nature — that  was  now  all 
dead,  and  yet  men  saw  what  had  died.  But  not 
even  in  this  could  he  quite  content  himself,  and 
sought  to  build  up  a  peculiar  system  of  Epicurean- 
ism, which  raised  an  undutiful  enjoyment  in  opposi- 
tion to  nature  and  human  society  to  the  rank  of  the 
highest  end  and  aim. 

And  yet  there  was  again  a  slight  quiver  of  unea- 
siness within  him  when  he  perceived  that  his  wald 
speeches  were  taken  in  earnest  and  not  with  the  pro- 
test of  the  better  knowledge  of  his  real  self. 


30G  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Ephraira  had  in  fact  for  a  long  time  been  account- 
ed among  bis  acquaintances  as  weak  and  wavering, 
for  be  always  carried  bis  wisbes  and  aspirations  on 
bis  lips,  and  only  be  wbo  locks  up  bis  changing  pur- 
poses and  wisbes  in  bis  own  bosom  and  surprises  by 
action,  impresses  men  as  strong  and  consistent. 
Tbis  complete  transformation,  however,  alarmed  all; 
only  Veitel  smiled  quietly:  "One  must  sooner  or 
later  sow  bis  wild  oats,"  said  the  practical  man;  "it 
is  better  be  should  do  it  now  than  put  it  off  till  be 
is  married;  that  makes  the  best  kind  of  husband; 
the  two  or  three  hundred  dollars  which  it  now  costs, 
one  can  well  let  go;  we  have  enough  at  any  rate," 
and  be  complacently  jingled  the  money  in  bis 
breeches-pocket. 

He  was  now  better  satisfied  with  Ephraim  than 
ever,  for  the  latter  had,  as  if  in  mockery  of  himself 
and  the  world  in  which  all  good  fortune  should  have 
its  market-price,  become  an  enthusiastic  speculator, 
who  now  all  at  once  transferred  bis  poetic  fantasy 
to  business  combinations.  Veitel  exulted  with  rapt- 
ure over  the  sudden  awakening  of  bis  nephew;  be 
ascribed  this  enlightenment  to  his  own  influence  and 
laughed  greatly  when  Ephraim  explained  to  him 
that  be  only  strove  after  money  because  be  despised 
it,  because  it  was  the  means  by  wliicli  be  could  learn 
to  despise  men.  Ephraim  was  put  to  bis  trumps 
when  Veitel  acknowledged  that  in  tbis  also  be  was 
quite  right. 

One  day,  however,  Veitel  came  to  his  n^pliew's 
chamber  and  said:     "Thou  kno west  what  great  ac- 


DEMORALIZATION  AND  DEPARTURE.       307 

count  I  make  of  thee;  thou  mayest  become  the 
greatest  merchant  in  the  world.  Thou  seest  too 
that  I  have  never  put  anything  in  thy  way,  thou  art 
a  free  master,  and  canst  do  what  thou  wilt,  but  there 
are  two  things  against  which,  as  uncle,  I  must  warn 
tliee." 

"  And  these  are  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  don't  like  thy  brotherhood 
with  Trevirano;  we  must  not  have  any  such  friend- 
ships with  a  man  who  has  no  money.  I  am  not  an- 
gry; thou  seest  how  I  treat  Emanuel  and  that  I  have 
a  good  heart.  I  know  very  well  all  men  are  not 
selfish,  but  still  one  gets  himself  into  a  dilemma  of 
this  kind.  Such  men  usually  need  more  than  they 
have;  if  one  gives  them  money,  one  gets  nothing 
back  again;  if  one  gives  them  none,  the  friendship 
comes  to  an  end  and  one  loses  after  all  his  good 
name.  Therefore  thou  A\dlt  have  no  more  to  do  with 
this  Trevirano,  who  might  drink  up  thy  property 
and  mine  and  that  of  seventeen  others,  houses  and 
lands  and  all. — My  second  is  this,  "  here  he  pointed 
to  the  enormous  case  of  books.  "  I  have  reckoned 
there  is  more  than  a  thousand  dollars'  w^orth  of  stuff 
sunk  there,  which  is  worth  barely  thirty  per  cent. ; 
that  is  a  luxury  for  a  prince,  but  not  for  a  business 
man,  who  must  make  compliments  to  every  one,  if 
he  is  to  make  a  silver  groschen  out  of  him." 

"  You  have  spent  a  greater  sum  upon  the  pictures 
in  your  country-house." 

"Tliftt  is  quite  another  affair;  in  the  first  place,  I 
bought  them  cheap  at  the  auction  sale  of  Gotzkow- 


808  FOE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  NT. 

ski's  things,  and  can  at  most  lose  two  or  three  per 
cent,  on  them,  which  I  can  soon  get  back  again. 
But  I  don't  part  with  them.  The  pictures  are  my 
best  friends  and  relations." 

"  Your  friends  and  relations  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  never  speak  ill  of  me  behind  my  back, 
and  always  remain  what  they  are.  Dost  thou  not 
comprehend  my  meaning  then?  My  Uncle  Jekuf 
was  a  horse-jockey,  and  my  grandfather  had  a  voice 
like  a  commandant,  but  it  had  no  weight  beyond  the 
synagogue  of  Prenzlau.  Who  has  got  the  acquaint- 
ance of  generals  and  statesmen,  and  the  most 
considerable  dignitaries?  My  pictures,  saints  and 
scamps,  men  and  beasts  and  trees.  Well,  now,  don't 
my  pictures  bring  in  their  revenues?  And  truly 
and  honestly,  I  know  not  how  it  has  come  to  pass; 
I  now  take  pleasure  in  the  i^ictures  themselves  and 
I  understand  something  about  them  too,  the  greatest 
connoisseurs  tell  me  so." 

Ephraim  was  silent,  and  Yeitel,  after  a  pause,  con- 
tinued: "I  buy  books  also;  I  have  this  very  week 
subscribed  for  Karsch's  poems.  She  is  a  poor  lady. 
I  have  paid  her  for  it  fivefold,  and  my  name  is 
printed  at  the  head  among  the  grandees.  Follow 
my  example  and  sell  thy  books,  now,  while  they  are 
new  and  handsomely  bound;  by-and-by  they'll  not 
be  worth  anything.     I  have  said  all." 

Ephraim  gave  an  evasive  answer,  and  when  Veitel 
had  gone,  he  opened  his  book-case  and  his  eyes 
rested  with  delight  on  the  gilded  titles.  There 
stood  in  rank  and  file  his  body-guard,  as  he  often 


DEMORALIZATION  AND  DEPARTURE.      309 

playfully  called  his  library;  it  was  splendidly 
uniformed,  blue,  and  with  shields;  never,  perhaps, 
did  a  king  cause  his  troops  to  display  before  him 
with  greater  complacency  than  Ephraim  here 
reviewed  his  books.  "  No,  never,"  he  said,  "  nothing 
shall  part  us;  for  when  all  forsake  me,  you  will  offer 
me  consolation  and  rest." 

Ephraim  visited  Recha  also  several  times  after  that 
fatal  evening.  That  is  the  most  oppressive  feature 
of  the  constraint  society  exercises,  that  it  is  necessary 
to  keep  the  form  of  a  relation'  unchanged,  when  its 
original  essence  has  long  since  evaporated. 

How  should  Ephraim  met  Recha  ? 

"An  old  flame  is  like  an  old  lottery-ticket," 
Abraham  Diogenes  used  to  say;  "  time  was  when  one 
set  great  hopes  upon  it,  and  studied  the  figures  as 
those  of  a  lucky  number;  now  it  is  no  longer 
anything  more  than  a  scrap  of  paper." 

His  altered  manner  of  life  gave  Ephraim,  however, 
suflicient  power  of  resistance  to  behave  himself 
toward  Recha  in  a  cold  and  unembarrassed  manner. 
Many  a  time  a  demon  even  sought  to  persuade  him 
to  hail  the  now  friendly  and  now  melancholy  looks 
of  Recha  as  signs  of  repentance  and  silently  bloom- 
ing love;  but  even  were  a  return  possible,  this  much 
he  felt,  that  the  untroubled  bliss  of  a  first  and  pure 
sensation  was  forever  lost,  by  mutual  rejection,  no 
less  than  by  his  own  willful  change  and  hardness. 
After  a  few  weeks  Recha  took  leave  of  her  Berlin 
acquaintances;  she  went  back  to  Hamburg. 

"If  God  himself  should   ask  for  her  hand,  she 


310  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

would  beg  three  days  for  consideration,"  Abraham 
Diogenes  had  said  of  her. 

Now,  when  Ephraim  had  long  been  out  of  humor, 
he  did  not  take  refuge  as  formerly  with  his  sister 
Violet,  for  he  felt  that  her  habit  of  indulQ^ino:  his 
assertion  of  his  whims,  as  a  man  and  one  of  the  lords 
of  creation,  was  calculated  only  to  aggravate,  by  no 
means  to  conquer  them;  and  beside,  the  evident  and 
real  sorrow  of  his  sister  caused  him  in  that  still  and 
pure  presence  too  sore  a  self-reproach.  Again  he 
took  refuge  by  the  sick-bed  of  old  Emanuel,  who 
always  received  him  with  the  same  kindliness;  he 
had  remained  almost  immovable,  while  Ephraim  had 
been  tossed  to  and  fro  by  light  waves. 

"  It  is  a  sad  thing  that  thou  dost  not  understand 
anything  of  music,"  the  old  man  once  said;  "for 
what  is  innermost  and  deepest  in  the  soul  there  is  no 
other  expression  than  a  kiss  or  a  tear,  but  when  one 
can  neither  kiss  nor  weep,  music  alone  gives  us  a 
presentiment  of  what  it  is  in  the  innermost  soul  that 
sighs  for  deliverance.  Whoso  will  accomplish  any- 
thing in  life,  needs  others  to  help  him  or  subserve  him ; 
and  in  every  act  he  who  will  create  anything  needs 
forms  and  experiences  from  the  external  world 
which  he  may  freely  shape;  in  music  alone  one  needs 
nothing  of  the  outer  world;  it  gushes  from  the 
inner;  music  is  a  something  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Babylonian  confusion  of  tongues;  it  is  a  language 
common  to  all  nations;  music  is  the  inner  Saviour  of 
the  world." 

"  Hence  it  is,  probably,"  replied   Ephraim,  half 


DEMORALIZA  TION  A ND  DEPA R TURK.       311 

playfully,  "  we  are  told,  the  Messiah  is  to  appear 
amid  the  sound  of  trumpets  to  redeem  the  world." 

And  all  the  time,  Ephraim  complained  over  and 
over  before  Emanuel  how  he  pined  for  rest  and 
could  not  iind  it,  and  it  seemed  at  last  as  if  the  hour 
of  consecration  had  come.  Emanuel  set  forth  to 
Ephraim  what  a  saving  vocation  it  was  to  have  been 
born  a  Jew;  a  thousand  times  cast  off,  and  yet 
always  cared  for  again  continually,  to  gain  his  own 
heart  and  that  of  mankind  in  purity;  and  with 
exalted  energy  he  said:  "After  the  great  journey 
of  life,  I  come  up  again  before  the  dark  veil,  and 
wait  for  light;  how  gladly  would  I  impart  to  thee 
of  that  which  shall  be  to  me  over  yonder,  but  of 
that  which  I  have  received  here  below,  I  may  let  a 
ray  fall  into  thy  soul,  and  enlighten  and  gladden  for- 
ever thy  inner  being.  Behold,  through  the  wide  earth, 
torn  as  it  is  into  a  thousand  hostile  camps,  there 
passes  an  endless  girdle  of  light,  into  which  all  good 
men  enter.  In  the  hand  of  the  One  God,  which  thou 
boldest,  thou  boldest  and  art  a  link  of  this  infinite 
chain;  thou  knowest  its  beginning,  but  not  its  end; 
for  in  distant  zones  lives  a  soul,  throb  thousands  of 
hearts,  animated  by  the  same  wishes  as  thou;  and 
though  thou  never  seest  these  friendly  features,  nor 
feelest  the  beating  of  this  bosom,  so  long  as  thine 
eye  drinks  the  light  of  earth — wherever  thou 
standest  is  holy  ground,  and  thou  canst  exclaim  with 
joy:  *  Above  me  God  and  his  angels,  and  beside  me 
good  fellow-men.'  When  thou  journeyest  alone 
through  strange  cities  and  villages,  be  not  afraid;  let 


312  POE T  AND  MERCHANT. 

thy  heart  say  to  thee:  Behind  these  walls,  amidst 
this  whirl,  there  live  human  beings  who  strive  for 
goodness  like  thee;  who  love  thee  as  thy  brothers — 
and  thou  wilt  be  haj^py.  The  higher  thou  soaresC 
in  this  universal  love,  in  this  universal  recognition, 
the  more  thou  feelest  thyself  single  and  whole,  and 
again  recognizest  thyself  as  universal,  as  a  splinter 
in  the  great  world-edifice,  as  a  mote  that  floats  in 
the  sunlight,  so  much  the  more  purely  and  freely 
dost  thou  live  and  die  in  the  nearness  of  God.  Be- 
Ihold,  to  wish  to  change  the  life  of  the  universe 
according  to  thy  own  wish  and  need,  is  to  desire 
:what  is  impossible  and  were  not  good.  Look  at  a 
ingle  city;  for  centuries  the  generations  have  built 
here;  no  one  can  any  longer  arrange  the  streets 
differently,  after  a  logical  plan;  one  may  think  it 
fortunate,  if  by  a  new  bridge,  by  the  clearing  away 
of  single  houses,  a  thoroughfare  is  opened  which 
lightens  human  intercourse,  and  the  new  improve- 
ments must  incorporate  the  old,  and  what  has 
apparently  sprung  up  by  mere  caprice,  as  a  precon- 
certed part  of  their  new  plan.  So,  too,  is  it  with  the 
whole  world  of  history. 

"  Ah  !  the  saddest  experience  of  my  life  is  this, 
that  no  man  understands  anotlier,  that  no  man 
can  give  aught  to  another  whicli  he  can  so  wliolly 
grasp  and  make  his  own,  as  it  was  given.  Every 
one  takes  only  that,  and  keeps  only  that,  of  which 
he  has  something  already.*     Look  at  human  souls; 

*One  is  reminded  of  the  two  sayings;   "Every  man  shall  bear  his  own  bur- 
den," and  "To  him  that  hath,  shall  be  given." 


DEHOR  A  LIZA  TION  AND  DEPARTURE.       313 

one  is  gold  ground,  another  gray,  a  third  brown, 
and  so  on;  if  thou  wilt  paint  the  same  picture  on 
these  different  grounds,  thou  must  in  each  case  mix: 
the  colors  differently,  distribute  differently  the 
lights.  That  is  justice,  that  is  the  highest.  Young 
friend,  thou  canst  not  yet  know,  take  my  word  for 
it,  what  it  means  to  look  back  at  the  end  of  life's 
journey  and  survey  the  dangerous  by-ways  and  bold 
ascents.  How  much  that  one  took  so  hard  might 
easily  have  been  mastered,  and  how  often  mere 
heedlessness  and  levity  helped  one  over  dangers;  but 
all  has  at  last  led  thee  to  the  goal,  and  it  is  well 
as  it  is.  Fain  would  I  set  all  the  gain  of  my  life  as 
a  polished  jew^el  in  the  silver  of  speech,  and,  making 
thee  my  heir,  leave  it  to  thee  as  a  protecting  talis- 
man and  magic  ring.  I  could  die  more  cheerfully, 
if  I  knew  that  I  had  also  brought  as  spoils  from  the 
conflict,  consolation  for  another,  for  my  life  has 
been  unhappily  a  confused  zigzag,  on  which  I 
almost  always  missed  the  mark." 

Ephraim  received  quietly  this  last  appeal,  but 
when  he  was  alone  he  said  to  himself:  Just  as  Rabbi 
Chananel  did  in  my  childliood,  so  would  Emanuel 
now  transfer  the  outstanding  obligations  of  his  life- 
battle  to  me  to  collect  them.  Is  this  the  boast- 
ed felicity  of  the  masters  of  knowledge,  that  at  the 
end  of  their  days  they  must  content  themselves  with 
the  living-on  of  their  thought  in  the  hereafter  of  an- 
other man  ?  I  will  not  let  myself  be  so  cheated  by 
life,  to  seek  at  the  end  of  my  existence  consolation  in 


314  rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

another.     I  will  enjoy  for  myself — for  myself  will  \ 
live  and  die.* 

Once,  after  a  night  of  revelry  continued  almost  till 
morning,  Ephraim  sat  drowsily  at  his  desk,  when 
Yeitel  stepped  up  to  him  in  a  friendly  manner  and 
took  him  aside  into  the  inner  apartment,  where  he 
was  accustomed  to  entertain  distinguished  strangers. 

"I  must  at  last  out  with  it,"  he  there  began;  "I 
have  always  waited  for  thee  to  begin,  but  it  is  with 
thee  as  with  that  sick  man  who  lay  dying,  and  whom 
his  son  exhorted:  'Wait,  father,  till  the  doctor 
comes  ! ' — I  cannot  wait.  Now  then,  let  me  make  a 
clean  breast:  Maier  Baschwitz,  of  Frankfort-on-the- 
Oder,  is  here,  and  has  asked  for  the  hand  of  my  Zer- 
lina;  he  is  a  splendid  match;  Itzig  and  Siissmann  here 
would  each  gladly  give  him  three  daughters  for  one; 
but  I  shall  not  breathe  a  syllable  till  thou  hast  told 
me  whether  or  no  thou  wilt  have  her;  I  have  not  yet 
given  one  the  refusal  of  my  daughter,  but  with  thee 
I  make  an  exception;  therefore  consider  the  matter, 
or  rather  tell  me  at  once.  Yes  or  No,  franchementy 

"I  shall  never  marry,  and  if  I  did,  I  do  not  know 
whether  Zerlina  would  be  happy  with  me." 

"  As  to  that  last  point,  all  that  is  mere  tomfoolery. 
Why  shouldst  thou  not  be  happy?  Thou  hast  a 
pretty  property;  and  so  with  God's  help  has  my 
Zerlina  also;  but  I  will  not  force  nor  persuade  thee, 
why  should  I  ?  Thy  books  are  wiser  than  I,  or  a 
hundred  other  experienced  men.      But  in  thy  case 

*  And  was  not  this,  in  fact,  the  logical  carrying-out  of  Emanuel's  own  doc- 
trine, expressed  above  ? 


DEMO RA LIZA  TION  AND  DEPAR TURE.       3 1 5 

the  proverb  applies  doubly:  Thou  cun-t  ])hea3ajits 
and  groaiiest  all  the  while;  thou  hast  wii at  thou  wilt 
and  yet  art  always  dissatisfied — my  understanding 
is  at  a  stand." 

"I  cannot  wed  Zerlina,"  replied  Ephraim. 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  do  not  love  her." 

"Youngster,  art  thou  in  the  theatre?  From  tho 
players  on  the  stage  one  hears  such  phrases,  but  not 
from  ordinary  people." 

"  I  choose  to  live  for  myself  alone." 

"  For  thyself  alone  ?  "  asked  Veitel,  shaking  his 
head;  "  Trevirano  is. perhaps  right;  I  tell  thee,  that 
man  does  not  mean  well  by  thee;  thou  hast  no  knowl- 
edge of  men,  nor  wilt  have,  to  thy  dying  day." 

"Marry  off  Zerlina,  with  my  congratulations," 
said  Ephraim,  angrily,  and  went  about  his  business. 
He  knew  not  to  what  his  uncle  alluded  in  the  men- 
tion of  Trevirano,  but  he  would  not  insult  his  friend 
by  asking  a  third  person  about  him.  As  he  de- 
manded of  a  friend  a  direct  survey  of  himself,  such 
as  no  other  could  possess,  so  would  he  too  pledge  tho 
same  in  return,  and  repel  any  outside  remonstrance. 
The  reproach  of  being  deficient  in  the  knowledge  of 
men,  he  felt  that  he  did  not  deserve,  and  in  some 
measure  justly;  his  whole  poetry  and  practice,  in- 
deed, took  the  direction  of  a  close  examination  of  the 
human  heart  with  all  its  venous  ramifications;  hence 
too  he  kept  his  own  soul's  life  moving  amidst  reflect- 
ing mirrors  set  up  on  all  sides;  hence,  indeed,  he 
watched  in  a  self -tormenting  manner  for  every  im- 


316  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

mediate  emotion,  and  now  came  a  cool  worldly 
wisdom,  and  set  itself  up  against  him  with  its  keen 
practiced  eye-siglit,  and  all  those  advantages  which 
rest  upon  the  logic  of  hard  fact,  but  cannot  prove 
themselves  by  inner  deductions. 

But  is  not  the  explorer  into  the  depths  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  in  the  presence  of  the  individual  phenom- 
enon, the  more  liable  to  deception  from  the  very  fact 
that  he  seeks  after  fundamental  traits  and  first  prin- 
ciples for  actions  and  characters,  where,  as  a  general 
rule,  only  disconnected  liking  manifests  itself  ? 

Ephraim,  who  carried  himself  with  an  air  of  pas- 
sionate protest  against  that  knowledge  of  men  which 
prides  itself  on  its  experience,  still  inwardly  de- 
spaired of  ever  being  able  to  know  a  human  being 
in  his  innermost  nature,  for  he  had  reached  that 
point  where  what  presents  itself  as  a  simple  element 
one  still  contemplates  with  the  question  whether 
after  all  a  manifold  combination  may  not  prevail 
therein. 

Of  every  fact  and  feeling  he  would  fain  explore 
the  manifoldness  of  the  causes,  as  every  stem  of  a 
tree  appearing  in  its  unity  nevertheless  rests  upon 
many-wise  ramifying  root-fibres  and  draws  from  them 
its  nourishment. 

Fate  had  thrown  Ephraim  into  a  position  in  life 
where  all  life's  settled  customs,  all  fixity  of  tradition, 
appeared  to  hmi  fluid  and  in  chaotic  solution;  two 
ways  stood  open  to  him,  either  in  harmless  levity  to 
content  himself  with  a  limited  existence,  or  to  make 
his  way  through  the  perplexities  of  thought  to  that 


DEMORALIZA  TION  AND  DEPARTURE.       ZVL  a^.  / 

point  where  the  creative  "  Let  there  be  "  rc^^eais  itself 
in  the  original  spirit,  and  the  world  shapes  itself 
anew.  To  the  one  he  could  not  descend,  to  the  other 
he  could  not  attain. 

Often  he  thought  of  turning  about  and  enjoying 
life  as  given  him,  just  as  thousands  did  all  around 
him,  but  he  had  no  longer  the  power. 

He  could  not  marry  Zerlina;  she  indeed  was  the 
confidant  of  his  love  to  Recha.  How  could  he  ever 
without  blushing  approach  her  as  a  lover,  how  ex- 
change a  loving  word  with  her,  when  she  knew  his 
heart  belonged  to  another;  or  should  he  possess  a 
goddess  without  love  ?  Sooner  w^ould  he  take  upon 
himself  inextinguishable  sorrow  and  certain  destruc- 
tion. 

A  few  days  after  that  conversation  with  Yeitel, 
Zerlina  became  the  bride  of  Maier  Baschwitz;  Men- 
del Felluhzer,  whom  we  well  remember,  had  been 
here,  also,  the  business  manager  and  undertaker. 

"  Blow  on  blow,"  said  Veitel  to  his  nephew,  whom 
he  had  sent  for  one  morning  early.  "Emanuel  has, 
to  crown  all,  had  a  shock,  and  Trevirano  ought  to 
have  one,  wherever  he  is;  he  has  retained  a  bill  of 
exchange  for  three-  hundred  dollars,  which  he  had 
of  me  for  collection,  and  has  made  tracks;  is  he  ow- 
ing thee  money,  too,  the  scoundrel?" 
"Yes,  indeed,  over  a  thousand  dollars." 

"Get  them  exchanged;  I  have  warned  thee 
enough;  I  have  heard  from  one  of  thy  jolly  com- 
panions that  Trevirano  had  publicly  said  several 
times  that  his  only  reason  for  being  on  such  iuti- 


318  POE  T  AND  MERCHANT. 

mate  terms  with  thee  was  that  thou  couldst  pay 
the  piper  with  thy  money  for  his  merry  sprees. 
But  if  thy  purse  has  the  consumption  at  such  a  rate, 
thou  canst  not  carry  out  thy  project,  as,  according 
to  Trevirano's  report,  thou  wilt  set  up  a  manufactory 
of  thine  own;  it  will  not  be  any  advantage  to  thee 
that  thou  wouldst  betray  the  secrets  of  my  gold  and 
silver  manufacture  to  a  new  associate." 

"  You  are  so  great  a  connoisseur  of  men  that  what 
you  imagine  must  be  true,"  answered  Ephraim,  and 
went  up  to  Emanuel. 

A  stillness  of  death  reigned  in  the  sparingly- 
lighted  chamber;  only  a  low  moan  was  from  time 
to  time  audible ;  the  dark  man  in  the  gray  military 
mantle  sat  by  the  bedside  holding  his  friend's  hand. 
Emanuel  with  all  his  might  stretched  up  his  head, 
his  tongue  was  lamed,  his  hands  refused  their  office. 
The  friend  seemed  to  read  the  wish  of  the  sick  man 
from  the  direction  of  his  eyes;  he  took  the  violin 
from  the  wall  and  played  a  soft  adagio.  It  was  the 
long-drawn  tones  of  a  church  melody,  only  more 
joyful  and  manly;  Emanuel  seemed  to  know  the 
melody;  he  thanked  his  friend  by  repeated  winkings 
of  the  eyelid.  A  halo  of  transparent  glory  hovered 
over  the  face  of  Emanuel;  softer  and  softer,  more 
and  more  tremulously  sounded  the  tones  of  the  vio- 
lin, but  soon  they  swept  upward  tempestuously  and 
exultingly  to  the  heavenly  tent;  the  sick  man 
breathed  faster,  when  suddenly  a  window-shutter 
flew  open.  "Light!  light!"  cried  Emanuel  with  his 
last  struggle;  he  grasped  at  his  eyes  with  both  hands; 


DEMORALIZATION  AND  DEPARTURE.       319 

the  tones  still  sounded,  the  sun  shone  in  brightly,  hut 
upon  the  waves  of  the  melody  Emanuel  had  gone 
up  from  the  light  to  its  primal  source. 

"  The  happiest  day  of  his  life  was  that  on  which 
he  died,"  said  the  dark  man;  he  closed  Emanuel's 
eyes  and  went  away. 

The  Jewish  inquisitors  would  have  hustled  away 
Emanuel,  the  freemason,  into  the  criminals'  corner, 
because  he  had  come  only  once  a  year  to  the  syna- 
gogue and  had  died  without  the  presence  of  the 
"holy  brotherhood;  "  the  influence  of  Mendelssohn 
and  his  friends,  however,  nuUilied  such  a  sentence 
upon  the  dead. 

Only  at  the  grave  of  Emanuel  did  it  come  back  to 
Ephraim  what  he  had  lost  in  him.  Here  among  the 
grave-mounds  an  icy  shudder  stole  over  him  at  the 
thought  that  this  was  the  end  of  life.  Pale  and 
painful  arose  the  remembrance  of  another  vanished 
one,  on  whose  grave  no  tears  fell  and  no  flowers 
bloomed.  Matilda  had  sunk  like  Ephraim's  past  life, 
leaving  in  death  no  trace  behind. 

And  a  funeral  wail,  full  of  unfathomable  sorrow, 
rose  in  trembling  tones  upon  his  soul.  How  crum- 
bles life  and  sinks  away  in  ourselves  and  in  other? 
for  whom  we  lived;  who  can  collect  all  his  energy 
and  carry  it  and  cherish  it  to  the  end  ? 

At  last  he  stood  erect  in  the  thought  that  hence- 
forth he  would  no  more  let  fate  be  master.  A  span 
of  time  was  yet  given  him. 

His  residence  in  Berlin  grew  daily  more  burden- 
some; all  ties  which  had  held  him  here  had  been  cut 


320  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

asunder  and  fluttered  loosely  in  the  wind;  to  this  was 
added  the  fraud  of  Trevirano,  and  especially  the 
unjust  suspicion  of  his  uncle,  which  he  willingly,  for 
the  sake  of  having  a  stinging  excuse,  painted  in  more 
glaring  colors  by  disclaiming  all  excuse  for  it  on  his 
own  part;  he  would  with  all  his  might  plunge  into 
life,  but  where  does  life  offer  the  visible  handles, 
whereby  one  may  grasp  it  and  where  one  may  in  a 
fresh  accession  of  energy  apply  all  his  strength  as  a 
lever?  Nothing  on  all  sides  but  quiet,  regulated 
activity,  studying,  working.  Only  in  the  soldier's 
or  the  sea-farer's  life  can  be  found  the  full  sense  of 
existence;  hourly  to  expose  life  means  hourly  to  live 
a  whole  life;  but  how  to  fill  up  the  dreary  intervals  ? 
And  always  the  result  was  that  the  whole  occupa- 
tion of  the  world  lay  more  and  more  chaotically  be- 
fore his  eyes. 

Ephraim  resolved  to  travel.  Wandering  from 
city  to  city,  he  thought  to  be  able  to  subdue  in  him- 
self the  restless  yearning  which  he  looked  upon  as 
the  source  of  all  his  unhappiness;  then  again  he  fan- 
cied he  should  rise  again  pure  and  new-created  out 
of  the  odious  chrysalis  condition  into  which  he  had 
spun  himself.  A  great  poem,  a  redeeming  song, 
must  be  slumbering  in  his  soul,  which  could  only 
struggle  out  in  a  state  of  freedom;  how  he  rejoiced 
with  tliousands  after  him,  who  should  let  themselves 
be  absorbed  witli  him  in  tlie  joy  and  sorrows  of  his 
living  and  poetizing. 

Nothing  had  been  left  him  but  his  books  and  liis 
sister   Violet.      Iler    he    again   visited    often;    she 


DEMO R  A  LIZA  TION  A  ND  DEPA  R  TURE.       321 

greatly  needed  bis  solace,  for  she  was  confined  to  the 
sick-bed  of  her  ailing  husband. 

"  O  God! "  she  said  once,  when  her  brother  spoke 
with  rapture  of  his  tour,  "  ah,  if  I  could  only  travel 
with  thee,  and  had  wings,  that  I  might  fly,  far,  far 
away,  I  know  not  whither;  ah,  God  forgive  me,  I 
am  a  miserable  person,  I  had  quite  forgotten  that 
I  have  a  sick  husband  and  duties  to  do." 

Violet  was  profoundly  unhappy,  for  her  husband 
was  sick;  she  found  a  comfort  in  the  careful  nurs- 
ing which  she  administered  to  him,  and  she  was  un- 
remitting in  her  attentions,  and  full  of  inexhaustible 
patience,  whereby,  also,  she  would  fain  make  a  cer- 
tain expiation,  because  her  innermost  thought  and 
feeling  had  not  wholly  and  solely  belonged  to  her 
husband.  Hei'z  Helft,  who  recognized  the  calm  ele- 
vation of  his  wife's  nature,  saw  now  and  too  late  the 
rich,  but  hitherto  overlooked,  bliss  of  his  life.  A 
wronged  spirit  rose  within  him,  and  at  the  close  of 
their  wedded  days  the  married  couple  learned,  for 
the  first  time,  to  love  each  other. 

Violet  begged  her  brother  to  stay  with  her  only 
this  winter;  they  would  love  each  other  right  heart- 
ily and  make  life  sweet  for  each  other;  but  Ephraim 
was  afraid  of  his  own  fickleness,  and  that  he  might 
by-and-by  no  longer  have  the  courage  to  undertake 
the  tour.  When,  hoAvever,  he  bade  farewell  to  Vio- 
let he  could  not  refrain  from  tears;  she  flung  her 
arms  around  his  neck,  and  clasped  her  hands  tightly 
together  and  absolutely  would  not  leave  him. 

Not  until  he  was  in  his  room  again  could  he  re- 
21 


322  ^OE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  NT. 

cover  from  the  tender  mood  which  liad  unmanned 
him.  Nor  did  he  succeed  in  doing  this  except 
through  liis  uncle  Veitel,  who  came  to  him  once 
more  and  ti'ied  to  persuade  liim  to  stay.  At  first 
Yeitel  made  a  show  of  unexpected  tenderness  and 
family  attachment;  but  as  this  proved  ineffectual, 
tie  said:  "Thou  wilt  take  a  journey,  thou  fanciest; 
I  do  not  understand  what  troubles  thee,  but  I  tell 
thee,  he  who  cannot  be  happy  in  any  place,  wdll  be 
so  nowhere.  Yes,  laugh  aw\ay,  thou  hast  a  hot  head. 
It  does  thee  no  good  to  turn  thy  pillow  over,  thou 
gettest  nothing  thereby  except  the  pain  of  having 
to  T-aise  thyself.  Then  stay  where  thou  art,  I'll  hold 
thy  head  for  thee." 

Not  even  the  consolation  was  left  Ephraim  of  be- 
ing able  to  separate  from  his  uncle  with  abhorrence, 
and  yet  he  adhered  to  his  resolve. 

Now  it  came  to  the  packing  up  of  the  books. 
First  he  took  the  Bible  and  laid  it  with  silent  devo- 
tion in  the  great  trunk;  it  should  consecrate  the 
wooden  house  in  which  he  shut  up  his  friends:  a 
selection  of  Greeks,  Romans,  Italians,  Germans,  etc., 
was  to  be  his  escort.  But  the  more  and  the  longer 
he  chose,  so  much  the  more  unjust  it  ai>peared  to 
him  to  leave  behind  this  or  that  book;  was  there 
not  here  and  tliere  a  passage  which  had  many  a  time 
comforted,  cheered  and  elevated  him,  and  should 
not  these  be  worth  the  freiglit,  should  they  jiot  be 
allowed  to  accompany  him  ever)^where? — Thus  by 
degrees  two  great  trunks  were  filled  with  his  library 
and  his  heart  was  lightened. 


DEMORALIZA  TION  AND  BE  PAR  TURK.       323 

When  in  the  familiar  Berlin  circle  they  talked  of 
Ephraim's  book-escort,  Abraham  Diogenes  said: 
"  He  could  not  succeed  in  having  a  menarje  of  his 
own,  and  now  he  travels  with  a  literary  menagerie,'*'' 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  with  this  pun  Ephraim 
was  dismissed  from  the  thoughts  of  those  in  whom 
he  imagined  he  had  made  himself  a  living  home. 


21— DAME  ADVENTURE. 

THE  interaction  by  which  events  often  call  up 
mysterious  apparitions,  or  these,  in  turn,  pro- 
duce and  determine  events,  is  hard  to  explain. 

We  are  occupied  with  the  time  when  bold  advent- 
urers wandered  from  court  to  court,  in  quest  of 
news  and  enjoyments.  The  whole  pleasure  of  life 
in  the  upper  classes  was  in  masquerades.  Ephraim 
also  took  i^art  therein. 

Before  the  inn  of  a  residence  in  middle  Germany, 
a  lean  man  alighted  from  a  well-packed  coach;  as 
he  threw  off  his  fur-cloak,  one  could  more  closely 
inspect  his  attire:  in  the  linely  frizzled  peruke  glit- 
tered strung  pearls;  over  the  pale  face  hovered  dis- 
content or  the  ennui  of  rank;  the  stranger  had  hard 
work  to  hook  on  his  cavalier's  sword;  one  could  not 
tell  Avhether  his  fingers  were  stiff  with  cold,  or 
whether  he  was  unused  to  tliis  costume;  in  fact, 
however,  it  was  the  latter,  for  this  cavalier  was  no 
otlier  than  Ephraim.  He  was  hard  to  recognize,  and 
yet  he  had  scarcely  entered  the  travelers'  room  when 
an  acquaintance    full  of  wonder  came   forward  to 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  325 

meet  him.  It  was  the  miich-expcricnced  Chevalier 
cle  Seingalt,  with  whom  he  had  become  acquainted 
in  the  company  of  the  Italian  singers  in  Berlin. 
Ephraim  drew  him  aside  to  a  window  and  confided 
to  him  that  he  thought  of  traveling,  but  that  he 
did  not  care  to  be  startled  at  every  boundary  post, 
which  would  remind  him  of  the  payment  of  the 
Jew-tax  and  all  the  repulsive  things  therewith  asso- 
ciated; he  would  for  once  look  upon  the  world  in 
undisturbed  freedom.  For  a  not  inconsiderable  sum 
he  had  therefore  procured  from  a  young  police  offi- 
cer, whom  he  had  also  become  acquainted  with  in  that 
gay  theatrical  company,  this  pass.  He  then  showed 
the  passport,  in  which  he  was  particularly  desig- 
nated as  Cesare,  Marquis  of  Tomicola  from  Mace- 
rate. The  chevalier  was  highly  delighted  and  prom- 
ised to  present  Ephraim  at  court. 

Ephraim  must  needs  accept  this  offer  and  yet  he 
could  not  rid  himself  without  an  inward  repug- 
nance. He  had  wished  to  see  the  world  for  himself 
in  a  free  and  unembarrassed  way,  and  now  he  had 
not  strength  to  withstand  the  decision  and  persua- 
sive arts  of  the  chevalier;  he  saw  himself  chained  to 
a  man  who  might  perhaps  be  an  adventurer;  even 
the  chevalier's  mow  inspired  him  with  an  inexplicable 
dread.  The  conversation,  however,  soon  fell  into  a 
lighter  flow,  and  Ephraim,  who  always  lived  inward- 
ly and  kept  up  a  constant  fight  with  the  states  of 
his  soul,  initiated  the  chevalier,  almost  without  in- 
tending it,  into  his  thoughts  and  feelings. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  eternal  talk  about 


326  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

your  dead  love?"  the  chevalier  once  said;  "in  the 
case  of  love  particularly  the  saying  holds:  'Le  roi 
est  mort,  vive  le  roi ! '  " 

Leaning  against  a  marble  column  in  the  great  hall 
of  the  residence  stands  a  Knight  of  the  Cross,  his 
arms  folded  across  his  breast,  staring  into  the 
masquerade,  which,  illuminated  by  a  thousand  lights, 
swept  tumultuously  around  him.  Ephraim  began 
to  regard  his  fate  as  a  poetic  complication,  and 
heightened  it  yet  more  by  an  ironic  coloring  which 
created  for  him  a  certain  inner  triumph.  What  a 
scene  of  mad  merriment  it  was!  Here  and  there  a 
group  darted  forward  and  crystallized  in  more  and 
more  complex  and  manifold  forms;  the  Spanish  and 
Turkish  costumes  richly  studded  with  jewels  flung 
back  the  thousand  in  a  glittering  play  of  colors. 
Harlequins  leaped  round  merrily  and  slapped  at 
them  with  their  wooden  swords;  the  voices  sounded 
shrill  and  hollow  from  behind  the  masks.  Ephraim 
gave  himself  up  involuntarily  to  the  fantastic  im- 
agination how  it  would  be,  if  under  these  motley 
dresses  nothing  but  spectres  were  disguised;  but 
gradually  this  thought  grew  repulsive  to  him,  for 
in  the  mere  speaking  aloud  to  others  the  conjuring 
up  of  the  spectral  loses  its  awfulness;  in  solitary 
thinking,  without  the  distraction  of  mutual  speech, 
it  remains  an  uncomfortable  demon,  which  creeps  on 
again  and  again. 

Ephraim  shuddered  violently  when  for  the  first 
time  a  mask  addressed  him;  this  feeling  of  being  put 
in  relation  with  some  one  who  occupies  an  invisible 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  32V 

position,  almost  made  liim  tremble;  he  forgot  at  the 
moment  that  he  himself  was  masked.  Several  masks 
spoke  to  him  in  German;  Ephraim  answered  in  Ital- 
ian that  he  did  not  understand  their  language; 
there  was  a  general  laugh;  now  he  was  asked  about 
his  latest  love,  in  what  heart  he  would  next  take  up 
his  residence;  and  other  snares  were  set  for  him. 
Ephraim  observed  that  the  questioners,  despite  all 
the  freedom  the  mask  permitted,  maintained  a  re- 
spectful bearing,  but  suddenly  they  put  their  heads 
together  and  then  disappeared.  He  again  resumed 
his  fixed  position;  the  whole  intermezzo  seemed  to 
liim  extraordinary,  when  the  chevalier  came  to  him 
and  told  him  he  had  for  some  time  been  taken  for 
the  Prince.  The  chevalier  might  well  be  the  person 
to  tell  it,  for  it  was  he  who  confided  to  a  female 
friend  the  secret  that  the  Prince  was  already  at  the 
ball  as  Knight  of  the  Cross;  in  ten  minutes  the  se- 
cret had  got  about  among  half  the  assembly.  By 
a  crowd  which  suddenly  took  place  E^Dhraim  was 
separated  from  the  chevalier;  a  Greek  procession  of 
gods  came  pressing  on,  music  and  dancing  genii, 
draped  in  light  veils,  led  the  van,  then  the  mighty 
Jove  strode  powerfully  and  energetically  along; 
around  his  head  flowed  the  ambrosial  locks;  Hebe 
and  Ganymede,  two  alluring  maiden  forms,  followed 
him,  and  then  the  whole  divine  train  of  Olympus; 
throughout,  the  natural  flow  and  fullness  of  form 
came  forth  free  and  unobstructed  through  the  light 
drapery. 

What   his   boldest   fancies  had  pictured  to  him 


328  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Ephraim  saw  here  appear  before  him  in  fresli  bril 
liancy.  This  is  the  full  bliss  of  existence !  his 
heart  cried  exultingly  within  liim,  and  all  else  is 
only  being  buried  alive. — And  yet  he  could  not  re- 
sist the  impulse,  in  the  midst  of  the  swell  and  din 
of  music,  and  all  the  flash  and  glitter,  to  trans- 
port himself  for  a  moment  out  into  the  other  remote 
and  narrowly-bounded  world;  he  carried  himself  in 
fancy  to  the  dark  room  with  Rabbi  Chananel,  he 
was  working  in  the  counting-house,  he  was  sitting 
with  old  Emanuel  in  his  chamber,  he  was  sitting 
by  his  sister  at  the  sick-bed  of  her  husband,  he  was 
philosophizing  with  Mendelssohn  ....  his  whole 
life  and  that  of  all  his  acquaintances  he  would  com- 
press into  one  thought,  to  gain  a  culminating  point 
for  the  13 resent  moment;  but  too  vast  a  multitude 
and  variety  of  objects  came  thronging  around  him; 
he  must  needs  open  his  eyes  at  once  to  rid  himself 
of  his  thoughts.  There  he  saw  again  all  the  splen- 
dor and  the  motley  tumult;  but  suddenly  he  trem- 
bled through  his  whole  body;  he  crumpled  his  cloak 
in  his  hand  and  could  not  stir  from  the  spot — for 
there  he  saw  the  form  of  his  father  stealing  on 
toward  him;  there  was  the  reddish  frock-coat,  the 
three-cornered  hat  with  the  white  peaked  cap  under 
it,  the  black  velvet  breeches,  the  white  stockings, 
the  buckled  shoes;  the  form  seemed  to  seek  some 
one,  and  stalked  straight  up  to  Ephraim:  "Massel 
tov,  Rabbi  Ephraim!  * 

*  I  congratulate  you,  Master  Ephraim  ! 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  329 

In  strife,  play,  drink,  is  seen 

How  much  a  friend's  words  mean."'' 

Ephraim  could  not  answer;  his  throat  was  as  if 
gagged,  and  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come  the  appari- 
tion had  disappeared.  The  signal  for  unmasking 
was  given;  the  chevalier  approached  E2)hraim,  took 
his  arm  under  his  and  led  him  to  the  other  end  of 
the  hall.  In  a  box  not  far  from  that  of  the  Prince 
sat  Luna,  a  well-knit  figure  of  luxuriant  fullness  of 
outline.  The  chevalier  brought  our  friend  up  to  her 
and  introduced  him  to  the  Countess  Aurora  von  O. 

Ephraim  took  his  seat  near  the  countess;  she  no 
longer  appeared  to  him  so  young  as  he  had  at  first 
imagined  her,  but  the  gay  and  graceful  play  of  her 
charms  and  the  refined  liveliness  of  her  mind  did 
not  fail  of  their  attraction. 

The  presumption  of  the  cleverness  of  a  man  of  the 
world  which  had  been  brought  to  meet  Ephraim,  in 
some  measure  communicated  to  him  that  quality, 
and  he  was  pleased  that  the  countess  accepted  what 
he  with  trembling  lips  had  put  into  a  word,  as  a 
witty  gallantry;  she  pronounced  it  "very  sweet  and 
charming  "  that  so  clever  a  man  of  the  world  could 
so  skillfully  appropriate  to  himself  the  mask  of  a 
bashful  and  enthusiastic  youth;  this  bit  of  tactics 
was  new  and  entertaining  to  her;  she  readily  brought 
up  some  reminiscences  of  the  pastoral  court-life  of 
the  past  period,  and  so  entered  with  ease  into  Ephra- 
ini's  tone. 

*  A  saying  of  the  Rabbins. 


330  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  N  T. 

The  latter  was  quite  enchanted  with  such  a  new 
concei)tion  of  life,  which  assumes  as  an  understood 
thing  that  all  is  mere  joke  and  jest,  and  out  of 
politeness  gives  itself  the  appearance  for  a  while  of 
believing  in  something. 

He  remembered  that  Matilda  had  once  prophesied 
to  him  that  Luna  would  choose  him  for  her  En- 
dymion.  He  grew  pale  at  the  recollection,  but  pres- 
ently again  he  followed  a  new  idea  on  the  alluring 
track;  how  unjust,  he  thought  to  himself,  are  we 
in  the  lower  walks  of  life  to  those  in  the  higher;  we 
repay  prejudice  Avith  prejudice,  and  fancy  that  un- 
der their  glittering  dresses  no  hearts  beat  as  purely 
and  nobly  as  in  us;  the  shining  form  misleads  us,  so 
that  we  nowhere  see  anything  but  the  form;  but  is 
it  not  better  to  taste  the  ripe  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life 
out  of  a  golden  dish,  than  to  pick  it  laboriously  out 
of  the  dust  ?  Wealth  and  power  are  the  fairest,  if 
not  the  highest  goods  of  earth.  After  this  pause  of 
thought  the  countess  asked  Ephraim  about  his  so- 
journ in  Madrid  or  at  tlie  Berlin  Court,  of  which 
the  chevalier  had  informed  her.  Drops  of  sweat 
stood  upon  his  forehead  at  being  obliged  to  commu- 
nicate on  these  subjects;  he  threw  over  his  stay  in 
Madrid  a  romantic  veil  and  passed  on  to  the  Berlin 
Court,  of  which  he  knew  more  particulars.  He  in- 
wardly cursed  the  chevalier  for  putting  him  into 
this  embarrassment,  and  yet  he  could  not  be  angry 
with  him,  for  was  not  his  whole  present  life  one 
continued  lie  ? 

The  most  excruciating  part  of  it  all  was,  however, 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  331 

that  he  saw  more  and  more  how  entirely  he  had  thrown 
himself  into  the  hands  of  the  chevalier,  who  could 
hold  him  up  or  let  him  fall  at  will  by  the  thread  of 
his  favor;  the  apparition  of  his  father  still  continued 
at  times  to  flit  before  his  memory,  but  a  glance  at 
the  countess  and  her  friendly  smile  dispelled  all  pain. 

The  ball  was  over.  The  chevalier  waited  on  the 
steps,  and  they  went  to  the  inn.  A  troop  of  young 
court  cavaliers  and  officers  of  the  guard  who  like- 
wise came  from  the  ball  w^ere  assembled  here  also. 
They  drew  together,  they  played;  the  chevalier  kept 
the  bank;  he  shuffled  with  dexterity  and  graceful 
humor,  so  that  one  could  well  perceive  that  he  must 
have  much  practice  in  this  line.  Ephraim  played 
with  easy  indifference,  but  when  he  had  lost  fifty 
ducats,  he  drew  back;  the  chevalier  offered  him  his 
purse,  and  almost  forced  it  upon  him.  Ephraim  was 
merchant  enough  to  know  the  worth  of  money;  he 
modestly  declined  the  offer,  and  drew  back  into  a 
corner.  Ephraim  did  not  observe  for  a  long  time,  in 
his  innocence,  that  a  young  officer  was  mocking  him 
with  polite  raillery,  till  the  chevalier  came  along; 
he  gave  the  subject  of  the  ridicule  to  understand 
what  the  matter  was,  and  as  the  latter  still  refused 
to  take  the  matter  up,  the  chevalier  himself  in  the 
name  of  his  fellow-countryman,  accepted  a  chal 
lenge. 

The  chevalier  stayed  by  Ephraim  in  his  chamber; 
the  day  was  already  dawning. 

"In  an  hour,"  said  the  chevalier,  "you  must  fight. 
You  have  the  choice  of  weapons;  you  choose  pistols, 


332  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

thereby  you  are  equal  to  your  adversary;  you  set 
your  right  foot  forward,  direct  the  point  of  the  foot 
exactly  in  the  line  of  your  adversary,  hold  the  pistol 
hard  against  your  thigh,  then  raise  it  slowly  and 
without  trembling  up  to  a  level  with  your  adver- 
sary's breast;  do  you  see?  in  this  way,  believe  me, 
I  have  often  shot  at  a  knife-blade,  and  cut  the  ball 
in  halves.  At  the  first  call,  you  blaze  away.  You 
will  be  doing  the  good  youth  and  his  uncle,  the  old 
Baron  von  O.,  a  pleasure  by  releasing  him  from  his 
creditors." 

"I  cannot  fight  with  him,  for  we  have  not  an 
equal  stake,"  replied  Ephraim.  "  I  offer  nothing  but 
a  life  which  is  a  burden  to  me;. before  him  lies  a 
future  rich  in  hope;  his  passion  for  fight  is  only  the 
consequence  of  his  fresh  zest  of  life;  I  forgive  him, 
I  cannot  fight  him."  The  chevalier  saw  in  all  this 
only  a  cowardly  subterfuge,  and  cried  angrily: 

"You  must  fight  with  him,  I  say  you  must;  no 
way  out  of  it  would  be  left  you,  except  to  take  in- 
stant flight;  but  this  I  say  to  you:  you  shall  not 
pass  this  threshold  alive,  for  I  will  strike  you  down 
first.  My  reputation  is  at  stake,  if  you,  to  whom  I 
liave  introduced  her,  if  you  take  a  cowardly  flight; 
besides  I  have  already  risked  too  much  by  you." 

Before  the  chevalier  and  Ephraim  stepped  into 
the  carriage,  the  former  caused  the  groom,  Muley, 
to  hand  him  a  few  drops  of  naphtha  on  sugar;  he 
also  made  Ephraim  take  some.  The  morning  was 
clear,  the  cold  piercing,  as  they  passed  out  through 
the  gate;  at  the  edge  of  a  wood  they  stopped  and 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  333 

alighted;  Muley  followed  with  the  weapons.  Eph- 
raiin  fancied  he  heard  the  Moor  singing  a  Jewish 
synagogue  melody;  he  could  not  help  laughing  at 
himself  for  seeing  spectres  even  in  broad  day.  He 
concluded  the  melodies  of  the  Moors  and  of  the 
Jews  must  resemble  each  other. 

They  found  the  adversary  with  his  second  already 
on  the  ground.  The  parties  saluted  each  other  with 
silent  bows,  the  two  seconds  measured  off  the  dis- 
tance; the  chevalier  caused  a  cloak  to  be  spread 
out  on  the  snow,  and  laid  upon  it  two  pistols  cross- 
wise, and  requested  the  adversary  to  choose  one  of 
them.  Ephraim,  meauAvhile,  stood  lost  in  thought; 
suddenly  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the  still  room 
where  he  had  sat  with  the  Rabbi,  and  had  known 
nothing  of  all  the  life  outside.  What  would  the  Rabbi 
think  if  he  should  now  see  him  here!  With  an  iron- 
ical smile  he  looked  up  as  the  chevalier  summoned 
him  to  hold  himself  in  readiness;  the  adversary  deem- 
ing this  a  smile  of  contempt,  quickly  threw  off  his 
cape  and  stood  there  in  bare  shirt;  our  friend  had  ii\ 
like  manner  to  take  off  his  coat. — Each  grasps  a 
pistol,  Muley  steps  up  and  pours  on  the  priming,  the 
seconds  lead  the  adversaries  to  their  places  and  then 
step  aside;  Ephraim  stood  firm  and  collected  and 
pressed  his  teeth  tightly  together,  that  no  one  should 
observe  his  trembling,  and  at  a  signal  from  the  sec- 
onds, he  fired  first  and  in  an  instant  after,  his  adver- 
sary. Neither  was  hit;  with  astonishing  rapidity 
Muley  had  again  loaded,  and  again  neither  shot  liit. 
A  third  time  the  combatants  stood  with  pistol  in 


334  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

baud;  Ephraim  fired  but  missed  again,  bis  adver- 
sary's pistol  missed  fire;  be  cursed  tbe  blasted  Moor 
"  wbo  bad  put  no  powder  in  bis  pan."  Epbraim  bad 
now  to  wait  till  all  was  again  in  readiness,  tben  be 
felt  suddenly  bis  adversary's  ball;  be  put  bis  band 
to  bis  bead,  a  lock  of  bis  bair  bad  been  singed  off. 

Tbe  two  adversaries  now  stepped  up  to  eacb  otber 
and  offered  each  otber  tbe  band  of  reconciliation, 
and  tbe  cbevalier  embraced  Epbraim.  "Now  you 
are  in  all  bonor,  a  cavalier  cotmne  il  faut^''  be 
wbispered  to  bim.  Epbraim  again  fancied  be  beard 
Muley  during  tbe  packing  up  murmur  to  bimself: 
"I  could  not  bave  believed  tbe  figbting-scbool  at 
Breslau  turned  out  sucb  good  scholars."  The  black 
grew  more  and  more  mysterious,  and  strange  to  say! 
to  tbe  silver  earrings  of  Muley  Epbraim  fancied  he 
could  attach  probable  stories. 

At  the  ordered  breakfast  Epbraim  did  not  tarry 
long;  he  needed  sleep;  be  had  now  suddenly  become 
so  genteel  that  he  turned  time  topsy-turvy  and 
changed  day  into  night  and  night  into  day. 

One  recollection  Epliraim  retained  from  this  last 
adventure:  be  bad  really  and  truly  looked  death  in 
the  face  and  felt  in  himself  no  trace  of  fear;  true, 
be  confessed  to  bimself  that  it  was  hardly  anything 
more  than  indifference  to  life  which  inspired  him 
with  his  heroism;  who  can  determine,  however,  bow 
many  boasted  acts  of  heroism  bave  been  achieved 
under  tbe  same  incitement?  For  all  that  he  per- 
Histed  in  deriving  from  this  a  confidence  that  he 
could  joyfully  meet  death  in  a  noble  cause. 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  335 

The  next  clay  he  drove  to  the  Countess  Aurora's. 
She  was  still  in  her  bath;  had,  however,  given  orders 
that  if  the  Marquis  of  Tornicola  called,  he  might 
wait  awhile  in  the  reception-room.  Voltaire's  Can- 
dide  lay  on  the  table  opened  at  a  particularly  at- 
tractive passage.  Ephraim  ventured  to  regard  this 
as  a  carte  hlancJie\  he  read  and  his  breath  trem- 
bled. Soon  the  marquis  was  ushered  into  an  inner 
cabinet;  the  countess  apologized  for  his  detention, 
but  she  could  not  deny  herself  the  pleasure  of  speak- 
ing again  to  her  brave  knight.  She  was  extremely 
lovely. 

Days  of  the  most  rapturous  enjoyment  our  mar- 
quis now  experienced;  he  was  welcomed  to  what 
called  itself  exclusive  society,  for  he  had  so  chival- 
rously fought  out  the  "  affair  of  honor," — as  they 
called  it.  In  company  he  always  found  the  countess, 
but  according  to  her  prudent  instructions,  he  vent- 
ured there  to  converse  with  her  only  sparingly. 

A  solemn  boar-hunt  was  appointed  by  the  Court; 
several  hundred  vassal  peasants  had  to  skip  round  in 
the  biting  cold  in  their  linen  blouses  to  drive  in  the 
wild  game  before  the  stand  of  their  excellencies;  our 
marquis  stayed  back  on  the  pretext  of  illness;  he 
had  never  sat  on  horseback  and  understood  nothing 
of  the  noble  field  sport. 

By  degrees,  however,  this  mode  of  life  also  began  to 
be  repulsive  to  him.  Accustomed  to  a  life  of  steady 
activity,  he  saw  in  this  new  mode  of  life  nothing  but 
constant  preparation  for  feasts  and  enjoyments,  and 
this  making  a  business  of  pleasure  could  not  keep 


336  ^OE  T  A  ND  MERC II A  NT. 

him  awake.  Even  j^oetry  forsook  him;  the  materials 
which  hxy  around  him  he  could  not  master  and  work 
up;  he  had  been  hurled  too  suddenly  into  this  great 
world  out  of  his  little  one.  A  singular  mixture  of 
love  for  life  and  contempt  for  life  fermented  within 
him. 

"  What  a  wretched  thing  after  all,"  he  once  said 
to  the  chevalier,  "  is  the  life  and  labor  of  men;  all  the 
tinkling  of  the  music,  the  halloo  of  the  chase,  the 
skipping  of  the  dancers,  and  the  risking  of  money 
and  life,  is  nothing  but  a  deafening  of  the  cry  of  con- 
science, so  that  one  dies  every  moment;  one  will  not 
hear  and  see  the  death-worm,  that  ticks  and  pricks 
in  the  stillness.  What  is  the  amount  of  all?  to  free 
men?  to  give  them  liberty  to  die  more  joyfully? 
— One  should  either  stick  to  the  clod,  or  see,  know, 
enjoy,  the  whole  circumference  of  the  earth,  ere  one 
has  to  part  from  it.  And  more  than  this:  one  should 
either  live  forever  or  not  at  all." 

"I  have  seen  the  cities  and  countries  of  many 
men,"  replied  the  chevalier,  "but  I  find  you  still  a 
riddle;  I  believe,  when  you  have  the  meat  in  your 
mouth,  you  reflect  whether  it  is  right  and  proper  for 
man  to  shoot  a  partridge,  and  whether  it  would  not 
be  better  if  one  could  live  without  eating.  I  tell 
you,  chew  away,  for  wholesome  wild  flesh  offers  itself 
to  you.  I  seldom  or  never  think  of  death;  when 
one  has  done  eating,  one  wipes  his  mouth.  But  even 
if  there  be  still  a  soiree  by  other  light,  nevertheless 
I  would  rather  be  with  his  majesty,  by  the  fZ/sfavor 
of  God,  king  of  the  lower  world;  there  is  the  finest 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  337 

society,  there  are  t]ie  handsomest  women,  the  jolliest 
priests,  there  it  must  be  paraclisaically  amusing, 
whereas,  with  the  saints  and  Magdalens  in  Paradise 
it  must  be  infernally  tedious." 

The  conversation  was  not  continued,  for  our  mar- 
quis soon  perceived  how  the  chevalier  liad,  so  to 
speak,  no  organ  for  this  kind  of  discussion;  he  was 
wont  to  drink  down  the  pearling  foam  fr<jm  life's 
chalice  without  much  thought  or  inspection,  and 
therein  our  marquis  would  follow  his  example. 

The  rosy-fingered  goddess  Aurora  offered  him  her 
hand  in  this  dance.  The  grace  of  the  countess  could 
not  but  inflame  such  a  man  as  our  marquis  to  the 
highest  degree.  All  the  wealth  of  tender  feelings 
which  he  had  gathered  in  and  achieved  in  his  love 
for  Matilda  and  Recha,  all  those  fresh  flowers  of 
love,  he  again  brought  out;  often  he  reproached  him- 
self for  this  abuse,  but  by  degrees  he  saw  a  justiflca- 
tion  in  the  fact  that  the  countess  intimated  an  in- 
ward trouble  about  her  present  situation  and  gave 
liim  reason  to  suspect  she  would  prefer  a  "plain,  un- 
varnished" life  of  love  to  all  this  gilded  misery. 
This  was  enough  with  our  young  marquis  to  hang  a 
hundredfold  plans  of  love  upon;  he  had  already  beg- 
ged the  countess  several  times,  instead  of  the  title, 
"ITerr  Marquis,"  to  call  him  only  Cesare,  or  in  fact, 
by  no  name  at  all;  he  could  not  yet  explain  how  op- 
pressive it  was  to  him  under  the  mask,  and  how  icily 
it  cut  through  his  soul  to  have  to  receive  her  tender 
words  under  a  lying  address. 

Ephraim  was  talking  once  with  the  countess  about 
22 


338  POET  A^D  MERCHANT. 

titles  and  designations  of  rank,  and  remarked: 
"  These  titles  are  after  all  properly,  only  the  nom- 
inal value,  the  mint-stamp,*  which  is  put  upon  the 
gold,  its  proper  value  it  carries  in  itself;  we  must 
have  the  courage  to  melt  down  the  precious  metal 
again  and  allow  it  only  its  intrinsic  value,  throwing 
out  all  the  alloyage  of  base  metal,  which  the  sover- 
eigns of  the  traditionary  ideas  have  mixed  in  with 
it>' 

The  countess  took  this  utterance  as  a  singular  and 
yet  unmistakable  act  of  homage ;  the  marquis  praised 
her  inner  meaning.  Ephraim  could  not  resist  a  de- 
mand Avliich  lies  even  in  the  unintended  interpreta- 
tion of  a  judgment,  and  he  was  already  in  danger  of 
being  charmed  out  of  his  proper  life,  but  he  forced 
himself  to  decision  and  led  the  way  back  by  relat- 
ing that  he,  though  with  great  reluctance,  had  occu- 
pied himself  for  a  time  with  the  coining  of  money. 
The  countess  again  refused  for  a  while  to  see  any- 
thing but  an  emblematic  language  in  this,  but  as- 
serted also  at  the  same  time  that  she  believed  in  the 
art  of  alchemy,  and  only  warned  her  friend  against 
dangerous  experiments. 

Ephraim  found  himself  caught  continually  in  new 
masks,  and  with  the  extremest  effort  he  now  explic- 
itly declared  that  he  was  resolved  to  rescue  himself 
and  his  beloved,  and  that  he  would  constrain  himself 
to  confess  another  religion,  lie  clasped  the  tender 
hands,  covered  his  eyes  with  them,  and  said  in  a 
deep  tone,  "  For  I  am  a  Jew,  I  loas  one,  if  you  com- 
mand it." 

*  Burns. 


DAME  ADVENTURE.  33 G 

"That  is  an  unworthy  jest,"  replied  the  countess, 
"withdrawing  from  him  her  liands. 

"It  is  no  jest." 

"  And  what  then  is  your  Hebrew  name  ? "  asked 
the  countess,  hiughing. 

"  Ephraim  Moses  Kuh." 

"  You  should  invent  for  yourself  a  more  euphoni- 
ous name." 

"I  have  not  invented  it." 

Notwithstanding  all  Ephraim's  assurances  and 
protestations,  the  countess  insisted  that  she  did  not 
believe  him ;  she  kept  up  a  continual  jesting,  but  in 
her  looks  there  was  an  uncomfortable  fire  and  her 
lips  trembled.  Suddenly  she  rang  for  the  physician 
and  begged  the  marquis  to  retire,  but  hardly  had 
the  latter  gone,  when  she  sent  for  the  chevalier. 

Ephraim  sat  in  his  chamber  tormented  with  rage 
and  remorse.  As  once  in  his  love  for  Recha  he  had 
done  with  poetry,  so  had  he  now  meant  to  stake  even 
his  innermost  sanctuary,  faith  itself,  without  being 
sure  of  any  more  certain  result;  how  could  he  hence- 
forth seek  rest  and  edification  at  the  altars  which,  in 
thought,  he  had  already  so  cravenly  forsaken  ? 

The  servant  of  Countess  Aurora  entered  and  de- 
livered a  letter  from  the  chevalier;  Ephraim  broke 
the  seal  and  read: 

"Mr.  Marquis  !  You  have  concealed  from  me  your 
rank,  as  I  have  just  learned  from  the  Countess  Au- 
rora; my  blade  would  disdain  to  meet  you  in  the 
combat  of  honor;  you  understand  merchants'  lan- 
guage, then  take  yourself  away  from  here  after  sight. 


840  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CIIA  NT. 

If  you  are  caught  here  this  evening,  you  may  find 
your  way  with  your  false  passport  to  prison;  the 
tiling  has  got  wind.  Take  your  books  with  you  and 
don't  forget  your  Don  Quixote.  Greet  your  cousin 
Ahasuerus,  if  you  meet  him  in  his  travels. 

"  Casanova  de  Seingalt." 
Almost  as  suddenly  as  he  had  been  launched  into 
this  life,  Ephraim  was  hurled  out  of  it  again. 


22.— SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS  AND  THE 
PROPHET. 

THE  rest  of  the  winter  Epliraim  spent  in  still  seclu- 
sion in  a  university  town  of  North  Germany;  the 
scientific  atmosphere  in  which  one  moved  there  was 
refreshing.  Ephraim  overtook  a  piece  of  his  lost 
youth  in  associating  himself  with  the  careless  ways 
of  the  students,  and  yet  he  often  felt  that  he  was  in- 
wardly too  old,  had  already  experienced  too  much, 
to  be  able  wholly  to  renew  the  wild  joy  of  youth. 
He  translated  here  a  great  part  of  the  epigrams  of 
Martial,  but  hardly  had  spring  sent  her  first  messen- 
gers when  the  passion  for  traveling  awoke  again. 
He  had  cleansed  his  eyes  in  the  clear  Pierian  stream 
of  the  classic  poets,  and  now  he  could  again  contem- 
plate the  world  freshly  and  freely;  but  he  soon  fell 
back  into  that  sentimental  haze  which  then  hung 
over  all  Germany.  We  wei-e  on  the  eve  of  a  crisis 
in  the  world's  history;  the  blood  stagnated  with 
the  fullness  of  heaviness,  the  spirits  of  men  wander- 
ed feverishly,  now  in  an  adventurous  passion  for  mys- 
teries, now  in  a  prurient  laying  bare  of  all  that  hith- 


342  POE  T  AND  MERC  IT  A  NT. 

oi'to  had  been  sacredly  veiled,  and  tlirongh  all  -vras 
infused  a  melancholy,  anxious  foreboding,  a  self- 
tormenting  spirit  of  inquiry;  it  was  like  the  pause  of 
suspense  before  the  outbreak  of  a  tempest. 

"I  have  committed  the  fault  of  so  many  Jews, 
who  eagerly  press  upward  from  the  Jews'  street  im- 
mediately into  the  palaces  of  the  so-called  higher 
classes,"  said  Ephraim  to  himself.  "  Up  there  there 
can  be  none  but  Court  Jews,  to  whom  in  gracious 
jest  one  tosses  the  crumbs  of  toleration;  how  are  we 
there  to  hope  for  an  equality  which  is  not  allowed 
to  the  lower  classes  of  their  own  nation  ?  To  the 
people  which,  sound  and  sensible  to  the  core,  dazzled 
though  it  may  be,  is  not  blinded,  to  them  we  must 
firmly  ally  ourselves;  the  baptism  of  tears  shed  over 
the  common  oppression  of  the  ruling  powers  and  of 
time-hallowed  prejudice  binds  us  in  one,  and  there 
alone  is  a  still  unbroken  and  unspoiled  force  of  nat- 
ure." 

Ephraim  had  penetrated  to  the  southern  portion 
of  his  native  Germany;  he  had  again  accustomed 
himself  to  the  running  of  all  his  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings into  the  channel  of  poetry;  he  lived  that  exalt- 
ed double  life  which  together  with  its  own  experi- 
ence nourishes  within  itself  another  still  and  secret 
one.  He  formed  the  plan  of  composing  upon  the 
model  of  Tasso  a  great  epic  poem:  "The  Destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem."  Forms,  great  and  mighty,  rose 
before  his  soul ;  the  death-struggle  of  a  heroic  nation 
raged  in  its  fury  before  his  eyes.  How  petty  and 
insi«:nificaut  were  now  all  the  cares  and  sorrows  of 


SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS.  343 

his  life,  which  had  sprung  from  the  glances  of  a 
maiden  and  the  smile  of  her  red  lips;  far  away  to- 
ward the  Orient,  to  the  ruins  of  Salem  would  he  make 
his  pilgrimage;  there,  by  the  sarcophagus  of  a  great 
nation,  still  standing  on  the  earth,  for  which  none  had 
found  rest,  there  would  he  sing  a  dirge  that  should 
make  the  angels  in  heaven  weep  with  him,  and  men 
learn  to  understand  and  love  eacli  other;  on  the  fall- 
en columns  of  Zion  would  he  breathe  out  his  soul's 
deepest  sorrow  and  die,  or  rise  to  a  renovated  life. 

If  he  should  succeed  in  framing  in  melodious  words 
his  pain  and  sorrow  over  the  ruin  of  his  people  and 
its  endless  agonies,  then  should  this  anguish,  and  with 
it  his  own  distressed  bosom,  be  relieved;  but  this 
foretaste  of  a  life  and  a  poesy  soaring  upward  to  the 
highest  reach  of  song,  was  all  he  achieved;  he  could 
no  longer  gather  up  his  whole  intellectual  energy  to 
a  single  act;  he  had  too  long  accustomed  himself  to 
extort  something  from  the  little  incidents  of  life; 
his  pain  was  not  one  great,  yawning,  bleeding 
wound;  he  bled  from  the  thousand  needle-pricks  of  a 
petty  destiny.  How  often  one  persuades  himself  ii. 
the  failure  of  power  to  overtake  a  great  purpose,  to 
regard  this  as  only  a  preliminary  step  to  other  per- 
formances, and  where  the  deed  falls  short,  to  rejoice 
in  a  gain  of  knowledge. 

Ephraim  chose  to  think  that  in  excogitating  his 
plan  he  had  gained  deliverance  from  the  sorrow  of 
having  been  born  and  living  a  Jew,  and  it  seemed 
to  hun  more  agreeable  to  turn  his  attention  now  to 
immediate  life. 


844  POE  T  AND  MERCHANT. 

After  the  example  set  him  by  Montesquieu  with 
his  Persian,  Voltaire  with  his  English,  and  D'Ar- 
gens  with  his  Jewish  Letters,  he  thought  he  would 
in  like  manner  write  Jewish  Letters;  he  would  give 
himself  for  the  purpose  a  quite  free  and  poetic 
stand-point:  A  Jew  from  tlie  time  of  Christ,  or  in 
fact  from  the  time  of  David,  travels  through  the 
lands  of  Christian  Germany  and  reports  upon  their 
manners  and  customs.  That  was  a  happy  basis  for 
the  most  many-sided  irony. 

The  doubly  guarded  concealment  from  which 
Ephraim  could  now  contemplate  for  himself  the  life 
of  the  world  gave  him  a  full  sense  of  freedom,  and 
he  hoped  to  be  able  to  play  freely  with  all  events; 
they  did  not  rule  him,  they  must  serve  him;  no  con- 
fusion, no  limitation  of  sense  could  touch  him;  he 
would  like  an  enchanter  wield  all  the  motley  phe- 
nomena of  life  at  his  will.  Traveling  in  a  carriage 
was  disagreeable;  to  hold  a  thought  fast  for  hours, 
without  having  relieved  himself  of  it  by  noting  it 
down,  produced  dizziness.  Ephraim  left  his  books  at 
a  little  residence  city,  and  roamed  on  foot  over 
mountains  and  valleys. 

A  beggar  woman  was  on  her  way  to  town  bare- 
foot; she  carried  lier  shoes  in  her  hand,  to  save  shoe- 
leather;  she  begged  for  a  "  Christian  gift."  Ephraim 
thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  gave  her,  un- 
counted, a  handful  of  money  with  the  words:  "That 
is  a  Jewish  gift,  for  I  am  a  Jew."  How  glad  he  was 
to  have  delivered  a  poor  woman  from  the  prejudice 
attached  to  an  expression  innocent  in  itself. 


SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS.  345 

A  Jew  peddler  came  up  the  road,  with  liis  wallet 
on  his  hack,  parti-colored  cloths  hung  on  his  arm,  a 
round,  yellow  patch  was  sewed  on  to  the  left  side  of 
his  coat,  and  he  seemed,  as  he  walked,  to  be  making 
a  prayer.  E})hraim's  heart  beat  audibly  when  he 
beheld  his  sul)missive  salutation;  he  walked  along 
with  him  and  it  did  him  good,  though  by  a  decep- 
tion, to  show  the  poor  fellow  the  benevolence  of 
a  man  of  rank;  he  therefore  asked  the  peddler  in  a 
friendly  manner  about  his  business.  "  A  plague  on 
the  enlightened  age,"  said  the  peddler,  "  the  boor 
has  become  too  shrewd  and  knowing,  there  is  no 
dealing  with  him  any  longer."  Ephraim  tried  to 
show  that  the  new  light  was  the  Messiah  of  the 
Jews;  then,  too,  would  come  the  better  times,  when 
one  would  no  longer  need  to  wear  a  yellow  patch  on 
his  heart.  "  That  is  the  ribbon  of  my  order,"  said 
the  peddler,  "it  is  dearer  to  me  than  a  general's 
badge  from  the  emperor;  uj)  in  the  other  world  yon- 
der this  order  is  of  more  account.  Perhaps  other 
people  also  have  w^orn  it  and  have  had  it  cleaned  off 
with  aqua  fortis."  The  peddler  looked  at  Ephraim 
sharply,  for  he  took  him  to  be  a  baptized  Jew;  he 
asked  him,  however,  whether  he  had  nothing  to 
trade  for,  and  when  this  question  was  answered  in 
the  negative  he  soon  parted  from  him. 

Ephraim's  musing  mind  entered  into  the  life  of 
every  tree  that  stood  by  the  roadside;  he  saw  it 
germinate,  grow  and  die;  into  every  hovel  he  passed 
his  mind  entered  and  associated  itself  with  the  life 
of  its  inmates;  but  in  his  unremitting  death-thought 


346  rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

he  saluted  all  the  beauty,  all  the  mountains  and  val- 
leys, as  for  the  first  and  also  for  the  last  time:  with 
the  first  perception  he  at  the  same  time  took  leave 
of  all  this  as  a  dying  man. 

**  Laughing — weeping — without  rest, 
Onward  to  the  grave  I  haste," 

he  once  wrote  in  his  diary  after  an  enrapturing  out- 
look from  a  hill-top. 

This  characteristic  surfeit  of  life  did  not  therefore 
allow  him  to  taste  the  pleasures  of  this  journey  in 
their  freshness  and  freedom.  There  he  stood  under 
the  shade  of  a  nut-tree  on  the  shores  of  the  green 
Khine,  saw  the  castles  on  the  vine-hills,  saw  the 
towns  and  villages  that  see  themselves  so  brilliantly 
imaged  in  the  mirror  of  the  stream,  and  yet  in  all 
the  wondrous  legends  that  come  sounding  out  of  the 
past,  in  all  the  joy  of  the  vintage  that  pervades  this 
fresh  life,  there  was  naught  that  could  revive  the 
weariness  of  his  being. 

As  a  sick  man,  carried  out  from  his  chamber  into 
the  gay  and  crowded  streets,  stares  in  confused  as- 
tonishment into  the  throng  and  bustle  and  din  of 
life,  so  did  Ephraim  feel  his  senses  heavily  oppressed 
and  he  could  not  roll  olff  the  burden.  There  he 
stood,  high  up  in  the  fresh-living  breath  of  the 
mountains,  and  he  looked  sadly  down,  for  he 
thought  of  the  misery  which  lies  hid  in  the  folds  of 
the  mountains,  and  in  the  midst  of  this  world  of 
majesty  and  freedom  his  inner  eye  beheld  nothing 
but  a  wheezing  and  maltreated  Jew. 

Away  with  these  doleful  images!    he  said  to  him- 


SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS.  347 

self  a  hundred  times,  but  his  heart  always  came 
back  to  them  again,  and  he  gave  a  friendly  greeting 
as  lie  passed  through  a  town  or  village  where  the 
Jews  stood  in  festal  attire  by  the  wayside,  celebrat- 
ing their  Sabbath;  he  rejoiced  that  to  them  air  and 
sunlight  were  still  granted  and  that  they  had  a  heart 
to  deck  themselves  festally  in  a  life  full  of  persecu- 
tion and  sorrow.  Of  the  landlords  he  always  in- 
quired in  many  roundabout  ways  whether  there 
were  also  Jews  living  here  in  town;  if  he  was  sharply 
observed  by  any  one,  he  fancied  himself  detected; 
particularly  did  he  fear  this  whenever  a  Jew  looked 
him  in  the  eye,  for  it  is  a  characteristic  trait  that 
two  Jews  immediately  recognize  each  other,  often 
by  their  mere  way  of  looking  at  each  other.  In 
that  peering  curiosity  and  importunity  of  many 
Jews,  who  soon  after  the  first  greeting  begin  to  ask 
thee  after  house  and  home  and  all  that  is  around  and 
upon  thee;  in  all  this  Ephraim  saw,  as  often  as  it 
met  him,  only  a  genial  family  trait,  which  leads 
the  suffering  to  recognize  and  fraternize  each  other 
and  gives  them  the  right  to  demand  the  familiar 
friendship  of  every  one  of  their  kith  and  kin.  He 
felt  himself  inclined  to  give  in  to  it;  but  there  w^ere 
two  occurrences  that  led  him  back  inevitably  to  the 
more  general  point  of  view. 

Ephraim  was  wandering  through  the  Jews'  street 
of  a  populous  city  of  Middle  Germany,  where  there 
was  nothing  but  a  dull,  mouldy  vapor,  a  noisy  run- 
ning and  racing,  chaffering  and  jabbering  and  squab- 
bling, in  the  narrow  space  which  the  two  rows  of 


348  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

houses  inclosed  between  their  high  gables;  no  ray  of 
sunshine  found  free  entrance;  he  looked  up  at  the 
innumerable  windows,  behind  which  hundreds  draor- 
ged  along  their  life  of  sorrow;  he  looked  round  him 
in  the  ground  stories  which  lost  themselves  in  dark 
holes  was  the  motliest  mass  of  frippery  heaped  to- 
gether in  checkered  confusion.  There  he  saw  a 
stately  old  man;  snow-white  locks  crowned  his  pate; 
under  the  bristling  eyebrows  a  black  eye  gleamed 
brightly  forth.  "  In  the  gleam  of  that  eye  lies  a  ray 
from  the  eternally  creating  spirit  of  God,"  said  Ephra- 
im  to  himself;  "proceeding  from  another  stock,  thou 
hadst  haply  been  highly  honored  as  poet,  general  or 
statesman."  All  at  once  he  had  reversed  his  whole  ca- 
reer of  life;  the  old  man  quickly  perceived  that  he  had 
become  an  object  of  scrutiny,  and  with  a  friendly  nod 
called  out  to  Ephraim,  "Can  I  sell  you  anything,  Sir 
Count?"  "No,"  answered  the  latter,  and  quickly 
left  the  Jews'  street. 

In  a  little  town  he  saw  a  tumult  before  the  custom- 
house; as  he  drew  nearer  he  learned  that  within  a 
short  time  one  of  th»  faithful  had  farmed  the  Jews' 
tribute,  and  was  now  proceeding  with  unexampled 
tyranny  in  order  to  get  a  good  profit  from  the  busi- 
ness; while  he  was  thus  talking  with  the  others,  the 
revenue  collector  stepped  uj)  to  the  carriage  and 
called  out:  "Thou  too  must  pay  me!"  Ephraim 
drove  hastily  away. 

This  trading  in  one's  own  shame  exasperated  him 
most  of  all;  he  would  absolve  himself  utterly  from 
this  disgusting  business,  and  fell,  himself,  into  the 


SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS.  349 

fault  which  he  had  so  often  censured,  of  setting  up 
individual  cases  of  imprudence  and  baseness  as  the 
original  type,  and  forgetting  the  thousand  noble  and 
good. 

On  a  pedestrian  tour  he  met  a  young  peasant,  who 
sat  on  the  horse  which  was  dragging  the  plow  home- 
ward; with  a  clear  and  powerful  voice  the  youth 
sang  out  into  the  evening  air,  and  his  Tyrolese  songs 
echoed  back  from  the  mountains.  Ephraim  joined 
him;  the  sight  of  this  free  and  blooming  youtli  was 
as  exhilarating  as  the  inspiration  of  fresh  mountain 
air.  The  peasant  asked  our  traveler  whether  he  had 
come  for  the  sake  of  to-morrow's  church  fair,  and 
when  this  was  answered  negatively,  he  proudly  re- 
marked that  often  many  distinguished  people  came 
and  were  well  entertained  by  his  cousin,  the  landlord 
of  the  Eagle.  Ephraim  promised  himself  to  sta}', 
and  the  peasant  in  riding  by  plucked  a  leaf  from  the 
tree,  put  it  between  his  lips  and  blew  with  it  the  mer- 
riest country  dances,  by  way  of  enjoying  a  foretaste 
of  to-morrow's  pleasures. 

Here  at  last  would  Ephraim  shake  off  from  him 
all  the  dust  of  his  books  and  of  the  ruins  of  Jerusa- 
lem. 

In  a  fit  of  bucolic  remembrance  he  wrote  the 
poem: 

**  Hail,  ye  lindens,  alders,  ashes  ! 

Welcome  to  my  weary  heart ! 
With  a  peace  your  shade  refreshes. 

Which  the  town  can  ne'er  impart. 
"To  your  huts,  ye  shepherds,  take  me, 

Free  from  vain  and  vexing  noise ! 


350  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Ye  of  unspoiled  manners,  make  me 
Sharer  of  your  tranquil  joys  ! 

**  Here  men  envy  not  each  other; 
No  poor  brother  here  complains 
Of  his  proud  and  cruel  brother ; 
Here  the  golden  age  still  reigns. 

**  Tinsel-pomp  and  heartless  pleasures 

In  our  cities  well  are  known  ; 

Genuine  joys  and  lasting  treasures 

Nature  yields  with  you  alone." 

Not  long  after  Ephraim  had  entered  the  guest- 
room, he  heard  a  peasant,  who  was  playing  dice  with 
another,  cry:  "Seven — like  a  Jew!  I'd  sooner  the 
devil  had  a  couple  of  his  best  witches  strangled,  than 
that  I  should  have  to  lose  the  liquor ! " 

"  Thou  art  lost  like  the  Jew's  soul,  Christopher," 
said  a  hummer  coming  along,  to  whom  the  winner 
handed  his  full  glass. 

Ephraim  blushed  over  and  over,  as  he  heard  these 
phrases;  a  teasing  demon  seemed  to  be  carrying  on 
a  horrid  game  with  him.  Now,  when  the  loser  got 
up  and  flung  his  emptied  glass  on  the  table,  the 
archer  of  the  village  cried  out  to  him:  "Why  off  so 
soon,  Christopher  ?  Carriest  thou  a  Jew's  beard,  for 
fear  thy  Annamarie  might  blow  thee  up,  because 
tliou  hast  taken  a  glass  ?  I  believe  thou  wilt  have  to 
breathe  on  thy  wife  wlien  thou  goest  home,  like  long 
George's  Peter,  that  she  may  smell  what  has  gone 
down  thy  gullet." 

"I  believe  the  mayor  has  hung  tlie  cabbage-knife 
on  thy  neck,  to  cut  off  a  fellow's  soul  and  honor  with 
it,  for  thou  hast  not  much  else  to  cut,  thou  starve- 


SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS.  351 

ling,  thou  art  a  churl;  if  thou  hadst  four  kreutzcrs 
in  thy  bag,  I  would  not  give  a  groschen  for  thee." 
So  answered  the  object  of  the  bantering. 

"Na,  na,  no  brawling,"  cried  the  others,  "show 
the  master,  Christopher,  and  stay  here." 

"No,  I  must  go  to  the  school-master,  he  shall  trim 
down  my  Jew;*  a  fellow  can't  let  himself  be  seen 
with  such  a  beard  at  the  church  to-morrow."  Chris- 
topher went,  and  the  others  soon  followed. 

Ephraim  sat  for  a  long  time,  wdth  his  head  sup- 
ported upon  his  two  hands,  alone  and  meditative  in 
the  guest-room.  No  one  else  was  there  now  but  a 
little  girl,  who  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  table 
and  eyed  the  stranger  curiously.  Ephraim  called 
the  child  to  him,  set  her  on  his  lap  and  kissed  her. 

"  What  is  thy  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Matilda." 

He  gently  set  the  child  down  again;  he  covered 
his  face,  and  something  Avithin  him  said:  "Why  be 
a  Jew  also,  is  it  not  miserable  enough  to  be  a  man, 
a  mongrel,  bound  and  imprisoned  in  the  midst  of 
this  worthless  world  ?  "  Of  the  flask  that  stood  be- 
fore him  he  could  not  drink  a  drop. 

A  ringing  of  bells  awoke  him  the  next  morning; 
he  smiled  at  the  thought  of  having  been  put  out  of 
humor  by  mere  phrases,  mere  fleeting  ])ulsations  of 
the  air,  for  in  the  life  of  humanity,  as  in  the  life  of 
men,  dominant  notions  are  found  to  pass  current  for 
a  time  as  proverbial  modes  of  speech,  but  presently 
these  are  melted  down  again  and  stamped  anew  with 

*Long  beard,  like  a  Jew's. 


352  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

the  reigning  ideas  of  the  present;  the  people  love 
the  old  coin  very  much  and  are  not  so  easily  accus- 
tomed to  new  ones. 

Ephraim  went  to  church  with  the  pious  multitude; 
he  would  pray  to  God  in  silent  devotion.  There 
stood  in  the  pulpit  a  small  man  in  a  black  gown,  who 
preached  in  a  nasal  tone  "  of  those  false  Pharisees 
and  those  accursed  Jews  who  crucified  the  Saviour." 
Almost  the  whole  sermon  was  a  motley  mosaic  of 
Bible  verses.  "Upon  this  conjuring  up  of  an  old 
prescriptive  sin  of  the  Jews,"  said  Ephraim  to  him- 
self, "  the  demon  of  hatred  fastens,  to  which  the  op- 
pression and  degradation  and  consequent  contempt 
of  the  race  attaches  itself;  when  wdll  this  end?" 
He  recollected  that  old  popular  usage  of  AvhicVi  he 
had  heard  in  his  childhood,  that  an  executioner's 
sword,  with  which  a  hundred  heads  have  been  cut 
off,  must  be  laid  to  rest  forever,  and  the  question 
arose  within  him:  When  wall  this  headsman's  sword 
of  the  faith  and  of  reciprocal  damnation  be  laid 
down  to  its  eternal  rest  ?  Has  it  not  already  mur- 
dered its  thousands  and  its  tens  of  thousands  ? 

After  the  sermon  a  summons  was  read,  that  all 
male  parishioners,  from  sixteen  years  of  age  to  sixty, 
must  repair  on  the  following  Tuesday  to  the  castle 
of  his  gracious  lordship,  provided  with  pick  and 
shovel,  to  do  socage-service. 

"When  Avill  this  end?"  said  Ephraim,  again  to 
himself.  "One  day  the  prescriptive  vassalages 
shall  all  cease  together." 

After  noonday  church  there  was  target-shooting, 


SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS.  353 

according  to  old  custom,  witli  the  cross-bow.  A  Turk 
was  set  up  as  a  mark;  they  aimed  at  tlie  agraffe  on 
his  turban.  After  that  a  Jew  was  set  up;  a  horse- 
laugh greeted  the  odd  caricature  with  the  long 
beard,  which  reached  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
breast,  where  a  black  spot  was  marked  as  the  centre; 
from  all  sides  came  a  hailstorm  of  derision  and  wit. 
Ephraim  silently  kept  himself  aloof. 

The  rich  man  and  he  who  is  secure  in  the  respect 
of  his  fellows  may  look  on  smiling  when  one  pub- 
licly makes  himself  merry  over  his  poverty  or  his 
insignificance,  and  in  familiar  circles  even  over  his 
person;  but  he  who  is  struggling  for  recognition  and 
is  rebuffed  by  a  thousand  limitations,  feels  himself 
assailed  and  dispirited  in  his  innermost  soul  by  de- 
rision; hence  the  sensitiveness  of  so  many  Jews, 
which  exacts  in  public  and  confidential  relations  a 
respect  such  as  the  children  of  fortune  will  but  rare- 
ly pay. 

Far  easier  had  it  been  for  Ej^hraim  to  separate 
himself  from  the  so-called  higher  classes;  in  his  ill 
humor  he  saw  there  only  people  who  had  been  trim- 
med and  spoiled  by  the  scissors  of  fashion;  here  he 
saw  the  people  in  leading-strings  and  contented  with 
the  tinkling  of  a  child's  rattle.  He  thought  of  the 
man  with  the  great  soul  and  the  mighty  hand  who 
cut  asunder  the  leading-strings  in  the  training  of  the 
child  and  the  peo^Dle,  and  loudly  demanded  that  they 
should  be  left  to  act  freely;  grandmothers  and  trip- 
ping aunts  might  cry  death  and  murder  at  this  inno- 
vation, and  insist  that  the  child  would  smash  its 
23 


354  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

head  if  it  were  suffered  to  run  alone  without  a  pad- 
ded hat  and  a  patriarchal  bonne^  but  it  availed  noth- 
ing. 

Ephraim  surmounted  his  dull  despair  more  and 
more.  ISTow  he  divided  European  humanity  no  long- 
er into  Jews  and  Christians,  but  into  slaves  and  mas- 
ters; now  the  people  appeared  to  him  no  more  as  a 
child,  but  as  the  victim  of  oppression,  who  for  a  mo- 
ment fancies  himself  to  be  free,  because  there  is  one 
still  lower  whom  he  in  turn  oppresses  and  scorns; 
the  peasant-bondmen  oppressed  the  chamber-menials 
of  the  emperor,  the  Jews. 

On  the  Alps  yonder  were  Sinai  and  Golgotha; 
there  wandered  the  prophet  in  a  pilgrimage;  to  him 
the  life  and  journeyings  of  Ephraim  gained  once 
more  an  end  and  aim;  now  he  no  longer  fluttered 
about  like  a  frightened  bird  lost  in  a  maze. 

With  elated  heart  sat  Ephraim  in  a  skiff,  to  be 
ferried  over  to  Peter's-isle,  the  asylum  of  Jean 
Jacques.  It  was  a  fresh  autumnal  morning,  the 
mists  gradually  rolled  away,  and  as  if  out  of  a  cloud 
the  lovely  island,  with  red  and  yellow  crown  of  its 
groups  of  trees  rose  before  the  view.  Ephraim 
found  Rousseau  botanizing;  the  latter  looked  up 
shyly  on  perceiving  the  stranger. 

"Are  you  the  man  to  give  an  unprejudiced  hear- 
ing to  a  Jew  ?  "  asked  Ephraim,  stepping  boldly  into 
his  path. 

"I  was  enjoying  the  peculiar  formation  of  this 
flower,"  answered  Rousseau,  smiling;  he  contem- 
plated a  flower  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  looked 


SENTIMEXTAL  JOURNEYS.  355 

down  upon  it,  then  looked  up  again  and  sharply 
eyed  the  new-comer.  "Salem  aleikom,"  he  then 
concluded. 

Epliraim  smiled  at  this  final  greeting,  at  which 
Rousseau  offered  him  his  hand,  for  he  had  not  ex- 
pected to  be  received  like  the  arch-patriarch  Abra- 
liara. 

"  I  come  not  out  of  the  patriarchal  huts,"  he  be- 
gan again;  " my  step-father-land  drives  me  hither, 
which  suffers  me  to  be  cast  out  and  pine  in  exile; 
everywhere,  so  far  as  the  tone  of  a  church-bell  is 
audible,  I  hear  contempt,  hatred  and  persecution 
with  brazen  tongues  hurl  contempt  at  me,  the  Jew. 
You  must  be  gratified  to  feel  that  all  Avho  are  cast 
down  in  soul,  come  to  lay  the  consecrated  offerings 
and  images  of  their  sorrow  in  the  temple  of  your 
heart.  To  you  I  have  come  on  a  pilgrimage,  I  clasp 
your  knees  and  thank  God  that  he  has  enabled  me 
to  find  a  man." 

"  I  have  become  such  once  more,  since  they  have 
forced  me  to  flee  from  the  poisonous  breath  of 
cities,"  replied  Rousseau.  "  The  more  gregarious  a 
man  is,  the  worse  he  is.  Intolerance,  the  curse  of 
humanity,  weighs  not,  however,  upon  the  Jews 
alone.  I,  too,  am  banished  by  the  tyranny  of  hu- 
man society,  because  I  refuse  to  think  and  to  feel  as 
kings  and  priests  prescribe;  but  I  nevertheless  hold 
fast  to  the  guiding  thought  of  my  life.  It  is  possi- 
ble in  the  midst  of  the  perversity  and  corruptness  of 
the  world — it  must  be  possible  to  shape  one's  exist- 
ence after  one's  own  firm  convictions,  after  the  laws 
of  reason." 


356  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"And  a  Jew?"  asked  Epliraiin. 

"A  Jew?"  Rousseau  continued  in  a  thoughtful 
and  interrogative  tone;  "it  creates  a  noble  pride  in 
the  midst  of  this  apothecary's  shop  of  the  world, 
where  they  have  forgotten  that  all  medical  virtues 
are  grown  in  open  nature  and  imported  from  there, 
to  carry  one's  own  free  law  within  him.  Of  old  time 
you  Jews  set  your  Jehovah  by  the  side  of  Chamos.* 
Do  the  rabbins  of  Amsterdam  still  teach  that  even 
out  of  your  church  salvation  is  to  be  found  ?  " 

"The  just  of  all  nations  have  part  in  the  eternal 
salvation,  the  church  fathers  teach,"  replied  Ephra- 
im. 

"  Toleration  to  all  those  who  exercise  toleration, 
for  an  exclusive  national  religion  cannot  exist  in  a 
pure  social  compact." 

Ephraim  grasped  the  hand  of  Jean  Jacques  and 
kissed  it  fervently;  the  latter  looked  at  him  with 
wonder  and  quickly  drew  back  his  hand,  saying: 

"  That  the  miserable  condition  of  men  should  weigh 
down  those  who  are  called  to  hold  up  their  heads 
proudly  and  freely  and  show  no  one  a  slavish  ven- 
eration!"    And  he  had  disappeared  in  the  thicket. 

Ephraim  himself  stood  there  as  one  lost,  and  he 
felt  only  the  solitude  of  his  heart;  but  out  of  the 
depth  rose  the  thought  how  vain  it  is  to  seek  a  sanc- 
tuary in  the  outer  world  in  another  human  being;  that 
only  he  who  has  a  temple  in  himself  will  find  such  in 
the  world;  only  he  who  brings  peace  with  him  will 
find  peace  coming  to  meet  him. 

*  Or  Chfimosh,  the   national  deity  of  the    Moabites. — I.  Kings,  i,  7 ;    II. 
Kings,  xxiii,  13, 


SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEYS.  357 

P]phraim  determined  henceforth  to  seek  only  the 
fruits  of  his  own  inner  deeds. 

An  old  reminiscence  arose  again  within  him :  lie 
had  come  out  from  the  ruts  of  customary  life  and 
could  no  longer  turn  into  them;  to  Otaheite,  to  the 
fCldorado  of  simplicity,  thither,  where  pure  and  un- 
sophisticated human  nature  unfolds  itself,  something 
drew  him  with  magic  cords. 

With  new  exaltation  of  soul  he  read  again  and  yet 
again  the  alluring  delineations  of  that  boasted  land, 
which  at  that  time  inflamed  all  the  youth  and  set 
them  to  recognizing  with  Rousseau  the  ideal  of 
humanity  in  the  savage,  the  so-called  man  of  nature, 
out  of  the  pale  of  culture;  his  purpose  grew  more  and 
more  fixed  within  him;  winter  drew  near;  he  resolved 
to  spend  it  in  the  circle  of  his  kindred,  and  then  to 
take  leave  of  them  forever;  with  the  spring  he  meant 
to  steer  towards  a  new  spring-time  of  his  life. 


23.~THE  VAGRANT. 

THE  bolts  rattle;  the  iron  door  turns  groaning  on 
its  hinges;  we  go  in  to  see  Ephraim  in  prison 
There  lie  sits  sunk  in  solitary  musing,  rolling  within 
himself,  Sisyphus-like,  the  heavy  burden  of  his  fate 
up  even  to  the  seeming  heights  of  peace  and  knowl- 
edge; but  ever,  before  reaching  its  destination,  the 
treacherous  load  rolls  back  again  into  the  dark  abyss. 

The  events  of  the  last  day  still  whirled  incessantly 
in  his  brain;  he  could  not  comprehend  his  mad  au- 
dacity in  daring,  on  his  journey  homeward,  to  stay 
overnight  once  more  in  the  residence-city,  where  he 
had  forced  his  way  into  the  gayety  of  court  life.  He 
saw  there  in  the  inn  Trevirano  keeping  bank  at  a  ta- 
ble; a  great  pile  of  gold  lay  before  him;  Ephraim 
stepped  up  and  fixed  his  eye  on  Trevirano,  who  asked 
him  ill  a  strange  and  sharp  tone  wliat  he  wanted,  and 
Eplirahn  replied  he  would  tell  him  the  next  morning. 

In  the  semicircular  room,  where  the  da3dight  was 
crossed  by  a  twofold  iron  grating,  here  now  he  had 
been  sitting  for  three  days,  and  felt  all  the  horror  of 
one  buried  alive. 


THE   VAGRANT.  359 

We  seldom  know  how  men,  flowers,  ?k%<1  Wt^^  1,^  «■ 
hold,  as  it  were,  their  hands,  cups  and  wings  sti'efsTreSH^^''^^^^'" 
out  round  about  us,  and  bear  us  up  in  joy  and  sor- 
row, but  suddenly,  when  cut  off  from  all  that  thou 
knewest  not  when  it  was  thine,  and  now  alone  with 
thyself  and  thy  consciousness,  immured  in  a  stony 
solitude,  while  light  and  sound  announce  to  thee  the 
life  outside;  then  thou  feelest  that  thou,  snatched 
out  of  the  stream  of  life,  art  still  dripping  with  its 
waves,  and  soon,  after  the  first  shiver  and  shudder 
thou  wilt  attempt  to  penetrate  into  thy  own  inner- 
most being  and  that  of  the  world. 

Ephraim  lay  on  the  wooden  bed;  he  studied  his 
hand,  its  pores  and  many  branching  lines,  and  re- 
flected how  he  must  keep  this  hand  till  it  should 
serve  as  food  for  the  worms.  How  strange  it  were 
that  this  sum  of  experiences,  feelings  and  aspirations, 
should  only  be  there  whither  this  hand  and  this 
body  were  to  be  swept  away.  He  turned  his 
thoughts  now  in  upon  the  moving  force  of  all  this, 
the  soul.  Again  his  thoughts  whirled  about  confus- 
edly within  him;  he  helped  himself  by  beginning  to 
sing;  he  drowned  the  inner  tumult.  Suddenly  he 
listened:  a  voice  came  up  to  him  from  the  lower 
prison.  He  laid  his  ear  to  the  ground;  he  heard  a 
Jewish  church  melody;  he  immediately  joined  in; 
the  person  below  interpolated  the  question  into  the 
melody,  who  it  was  overhead  ?  Epbraim  shuddered ; 
he  felt  as  he  did  then  when  at  the  masked  ball  he, 
for  the  first  time,  was  addressed  by  invisible  lips; 
and  yet  how  different  were  his  situations  then  and 


360  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

now;  however,  lie  quickly  answered  in  the  same  tune 
what  seemed  to  him  advisable,  for  he  still  doubted 
whether  he  should  confess  before  the  judge  his  Ju- 
daism, and  therefore  he  feared  that  he  might  be  de- 
tected by  a  spy.  The  two  prisoners  now  conversed 
together  by  singing  Jewish  airs.  The  guard  could 
discover  nothing  suspicious  in  that;  the  prisoners 
might  sing,  to  be  sure,  to  their  hearts'  content.  Eph- 
raim's  fellow-captive  had  been  arrested  on  the  same 
ground  with  himself.  The  two  fellow-prisoners  had 
conversed  together  in  their  recitative  hardly  an  hour 
when  they  had  nothing  more  to  say  to  each  other. 
We  do  not  know,  in  the  state  of  freedom,  what  a 
mighty  influence  it  has  upon  conversation  that  the 
parties  can  look  each  other  in  the  face;  a  glance,  a 
play  of  the  features,  the  whole  outward  appearance 
with  its  immediate  impressions,  continually  reani- 
mate conversation;  the  two  prisoners,  who  could 
not  see  each  other  and  never  had  seen  each  other, 
must  needs  therefore  soon  come  to  a  dead  pause. 
Every  morning  they  mutually  inquired  how  each 
had  slept,  whether  no  sentence  had  yet  been  pro- 
nounced, and  then  each  one  gave  himself  up  to  his 
own  thoughts.  Ephraim  missed  men  perhaps  less 
than  his  books;  to  sit  thus  half  in  the  dark,  not  to 
be  able  to  transport  himself  intcTthe  life  and  thought 
of  another,  nor  to  unburden  himself  of  his  own 
thoughts  either  by  conversation  or  writing,  that  is  a 
torment  which  stamps  itself  into  the  fibres  of  the 
brain.  A  piece  of  news  from  his  fellow-prisoner 
startled  Ephraim.     He  learned  that  the  overseer  of 


THE  VAGRANT.  361 

the  prison  was  a  baptized  Jew;  this  prisoner  under 
liim  might  be  the  jailer  himself;  he  no  longer  gave 
him  any  answer.  The  jailer  was  repulsive  to  him 
by  his  smirking  show  of  friendship  and  by  the  Jew- 
ish phrases  with  which  he  greeted  him.  These 
Christians  with  a  Judaizing  jargon  were  odious  to 
Ephraim's  soul,  for  in  this  specious  complaisance  lies 
concealed  for  the  most  part  only  mockery  and  ban- 
ter; besides,  Ephraini  was  offended  that  they  treated 
him  as  an  ol'  clo'  Jew;  he  was  proud  and  chary  of 
his  words. 

From  this  time  forth  he  began,  however,  to  be 
more  friendly  toward  the  jailer;  this  knavish  face 
with  the  woolly  gray  hair  and  the  silver  ear-rings, 
Ephraim  fancied  he  had  met  once  before. 

"Have  I  not  seen  you  once  before?"  Ephraim 
once  asked  him. 

"Once?  Ten  times  !  "  replied  the  jailer;  " I  knew 
the  Kuh  [cow]  when  she  was  yet  a  little,  innocent 
calf;  don't  take  it  ill  of  me,  it  is  only  a  fancy  of 
mine." 

Ephraim  turned  away  indignantly,  for  nothing  is 
more  repulsive  than  a  witticism  on  the  family  name 
which  the  wearer  cannot  put  off  all  his  life  long; 
the  jailer,  however,  continued: 

"  In  Breslau,  in  Berlin  and  liere  we  have  seen  each 
other  before,  but  I  will  tell  you  my  history  from 
aleph  [the  beginning  of  the  alphabet]  down:  My 
father, — where  he  lives  now,  I  know  not, — but  for- 
merly he  lived  at  Wieliczka,  in  Poland;  he  had  a 
large  business,  a  great  deal  to  do,  to  get  ahead,  from 


3  G  2  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  NT. 

morning  till  evening.  In  the  morning  he  goes  to 
market  and  yawns  in  the  faces  of  the  huckster- 
women,  till  they  all  were' compelled  to  yawn  at  him; 
at  .evening,  as  soon  as  it  was  night,  he  runs  round  all 
through  the  Jews'  street,  and  on  the  ground-floor 
shuts  up  shop  for  all  the  people;  then,  when  he 
comes  home,  he  has  to  fight  it  out  with  my  mother. 
She  and  we  children  had  to  earn  the  bread.  As  a 
child  of  eight,  I  was  school-knocker;  you  know  very 
well  what  that  is:  three  times  every  day  one  has  to 
strike  with  the  clapper  on  all  the  Jewish  houses,  to 
call  them  to  the  synagogue.  In  the  cold  winter  days 
the  hammer  almost  froze  to  my  hand;  many  a  time 
I  actually  did  not  know  any  longer  that  I  had  hands, 
they  were  so  dead;  and  then,  too,  to  have  to  stand 
so  long  in  the  synagogue  on  an  empty  stomach.  I 
have  been  vexed  with  God  for  making  me  beat  the 
reveille  for  his  soldiers;  once,  when  not  a  soul  was 
left  in  the  synagogue,  I  tipped  the  desks  one  over 
another,  just  to  enrage  the  Lord  God,  and  then  ran 
out  as  fast  as  I  could.  When  my  father  died,  my 
mother  packed  up  and  came  with  me  to  Germany; 
on  the  way  she  died,  for  it  vexed  her  to  leave  my 
father  alone  at  rest  where  he  is.  I  was  the  oldest 
and  hired  myself  as  boy  at  the  horse-delivery  in  the 
first  Silesian  war,  because  I  wore  a  moustache  under 
my  nozzle.  A  Swabian  from  Augsburg  tacked  on  to 
me  the  nickname  Schnauzcrle.'^  Afterward  I  often 
came  with  wife  and  children  to  Breslau;  I  am  as 
well  known  in  Breslau  as  in  my  breeches-pocket." 

*Snozzly(?) 


THE  VAGRANT.  363 

"Where,  then,  is  your  family  now?"  asked  Eph- 
raim. 

"With  grandfather." 
"With  grandfather?" 

"  Well,  yes,  above  or  below,  they  haven't  so  much 

as  a  finger-ache  any  longer.     My  Matilda  alone  I 

cannot  yet  forget,  she  was  such  a  dear,  sweet  child; 

they  told  me  that  the  silly  thing  took  her  own  life, 

because  she  had  in  her  a  life  too  many,  but  I  don't 

believe  it,  I  don't   believe    it."     Schnauzerle   grew 

suddenly   pensive   and   chewed    at   his   coat-sleeve. 

Ephraim  was  glad  to  find  a  tie  that  drew  the  old 

fellow  back  to  a  tender  spot  in  life;  had  he  known 

how  nearly  the  sorrow  of  this  man  for  his  dead  child 

touched    himself,    for    Matilda    was    Schnauzerle's 

daughter,  he  would  not,  for  the  sake  of  comforting 

the  mourner,  have  diverted  him  to  other  subjects; 

but  now  he  asked  him  again  after  the  fortunes  of 

his  life,  and  where  he  had  first  met  him. 

Schnauzerle  went  on:  "Do  you  remember  how,  on 
Passover-evening,  they  took  your  father  to  a  free 
lodging  ?  At  that  time  I  sat  at  table  with  him. — I 
had  even  as  a  child  a  begging  spirit  in  me.  I  al- 
ways kept  company  with  rich  children,  for  I  calcu- 
lated with  myself:  If  I  one  day  come  to  them  as  a 
beggar,  I  can  say:  Dost  thou  remember  how,  at  such 
or  such  a  place  we  played  together  and  stole  the 
onion  from  Gudula's  roof?  And  then  they  must 
certainly  give  me  more  than  any  one  else.  When, 
in  begging,  the  staff  has  once  grown  warm  in  the 
hand,  or  when  one  has  torn  a  pair  of  boots  on  the 


8G4  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

tramp,  the  staff  will  burn  in  his  hands  and  the  sole 
on  his  feet,  till  he  trudges  the  same  road  with  them 
again.  I  have  left  no  stone  unturned.  I  lost  my 
wife  and  children  one  day,  I  know  not  how.  As  I 
sit  like  a  cat  on  horseback,  I  was  put  with  English 
riders;  but  there  nothing  is  left  one  but  an  old  bridle 
and  piebald  clothes;  when  things  were  at  the  worst 
with  me  I  played  the  bass-fiddle  for  four  good 
groschen  a  day." 

"  The  fiddle  ?     Are  you  musical  then  too  ?  " 

"Yes,  the  fiddle;  the  saw  was  the  bow,  the  wood 
the  string,  and  the  cross-block  the  fiddle-case;  that 
was  the  miserablest  of  all,  four  good  groschen  for 
earnings  and  ten  good  groschen  spent  for  drink;  I 
was  always  a  lover  of  a  good  swig;  it  keeps  soul  and 
body  together;  then  I  was  for  some  time  parson." 

"  Ah,  you  take  me  for  a  fool." 

"As  true  as  my  name  is  Victor  Nepomuk  Baptist 
Schnauzerle,  I  was  parson;  what  is  a  parson,  then, 
except  a  double  ventriloquist,  or  belly-speaker  ?  He 
imitates  the  voice  of  another  that  he  may  get  some- 
thing into  his  own  belly." 

"  Who  is  locked  up  below  me  *? "  asked  Ej^hraim, 
for  he  thought  now  he  had  sure  evidence  that  he  had 
been  deceived  by  the  ventriloquism. 

"That  is  a  Ger;*  his  name  is  Chulicki;  he  will 
have  to  drag  the  cart  to-morrow,  because  he  can't 
pay  the  fine;  he  is  as  restive  and  hard-mouthed  as  a 
silly  nag.'  Ah,  you  must  certainly  know  something 
about  him  ?  " 

*  A  Jew,  turned  Christian. 


THE  VAGRANT.  365 

"  I  don't  recollect  him." 

"Well,  then  I  will  help  you  to  a  clew.  Rabbi 
Chananel,  you  know,  was  a  long  time  an  inmate  of 
your  house;  well,  Chulicki  was  the  very  man  on 
whom  he  worked  a  miracle;  in  one  day  he  made 
him  a  couple  of  thousand  years  older." 

"I  don't  understand  you." 

"I  don't  understand  him  either,"  said  Schnauzerle, 
laughing.  "  Rabbi  Chananel  changed  Chulicki  from 
a  Christian  to  a  Jew;  a  nice  job,  too;  Chulicki  knows 
all  our  religious  usages,  but  one  thing  he  will  not 
get  through  his  thick  skull — he  can't  duck,  and  that 
is  the  very  first  thing  of  all." 

Ephraim  was  deeply  affected  at  finding  here  his 
teacher's  proselyte,  and  would  have  had  Schnauzerle 
announce  this  fact  to  him  forthwith,  but  Schnauzerle 
was  once  for  all  in  a  story-telling  vein,  and  went 
on:  "I  was  also  for  the  first  two  years  of  the  Seven 
Years'  War  in  the  cavalry,  but  I  soon  took  myself 
off  from  that,  for  I  saw  that  one  does  with  the  in- 
valid soldiers  as  they  they  do  with  the  butcher's  dog 
w^ho  brings  the  calf  to  the  shambles  for  the  gentry, 
and  runs  himself  almost  to  death,  so  that  his  tongue 
hangs  out,  and  doesn't  get  as  much  at  last  as  gnawed 
bone." 

"Had  you  then  already  changed  your  religion?" 
"Seven  times  for  good;  that  was  for  a  while  a 
good  business;  the  Prussians,  all  their  fingers  itch  to 
get  hold  of  a  Jew's  soul,  but  they're  poor  pay;  ten 
thalers  and  at  most  a  couple  of  thalers  extra  that  fall 
into  the  contribution-box;   the  best  paymaster   has 


366  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

been  ray  last;  that  was  my  Jesuit,  through  whom 
also  I  have  my  present  bit  of  serviee." 

"  Have  you  no  conscientious  scruples  about  trifling 
so  with  religion?"  asked  Ephraim. 

"If  our  Lord  God  had  wanted  me  in  his  service 
here  or  there,  he  should  have  reflected:  it  takes 
money  to  buy  truth;  the  other  God  has  at  least  giv- 
en me  something  for  pocket-money.  I  paid  my  Jew's 
tax  at  once,  became  a  Christian,  and  have  made 
money  out  of  it  too.  One  must  bore  through  the 
plank  where  it  is  thinnest.  If  there  were  a  judicious 
word  to  be  whispered  in  the  Sultan's  ear,  I  wouldn't 
make  any  objections  to  becoming  a  Turk  or  a  Ilei- 
duk." 

"You  have  never  reproached  yoi^elf,  then,  for 
abandoning  Judaism  ?  " 

"To concern  one's  self  for  the  Jewish  religion,"  re- 
plied  Schnauzerle,  "is  like  bridling  the  nag's  tail; 
the  Jewish  religion  is  a  discharged  campaign-horse; 
it  is  galled;  one  should  treat  it  respectfully,  but  one 
cannot  use  it  any  more." 

"And  do  you  never  think  of  a  future  life?" 

"The  present  life  is  cash  in  hand;  tlie  other — na  ! 
it  is  an  obligation  resting  on  mere  promise  of  mouth, 
or  note  of  hand  without  security;  may  be  it  will  be 
paid,  may  be  not.  I  am  now,  it  is  true,  in  the  tliird 
week  of  the  fair — when  one  is  in  the  sixties,  it  is,  to 
be  sure,  a  day  after  the  fair — my  best  business  is 
done;  I  have  no  longer  a  firm  seat  on  horseback,  my 
knees  are  no  longer  steady;  I  might  now,  indeed, 
hold  on   to  religion,  but  religion  is  nothing  but  a 


THE  VAGRANT.  307 

nose-piece  for  the  common  folk;  the  hard-mouthed 
jade  would  never  let  a  rider  sit  on  her  any  more,  if 
one  did  not  hold  her  rigorously  by  the  snaffle;  the 
priests,  they  make  the  best  grooms." 

"  You  said  we  had  seen  each  other  here,  too,  be- 
fore now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  but  I  was  masked.  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  Moor  Muley,  with  the  chevalier  ?  That  was 
I.  Do  you  remember  the  mask  of  your  father  at 
the  carnival?  That  was  I.  I  gave  you  warning 
enough,  but  there  are  people  who,  if  you  say  to 
them  a  hundred  times:  There's  a  stone  there!  will 
not  believe  you  till  they  themselves  stumble  over  it. 
At  that  lottery  where  there  was  no  prize,  the  pistol- 
duel,  I  was  present  also,  and  as  Moor  played  the 
orphan.  Wasn't  I  a  handsome  Moor  ?  I  have  my 
clothes  yet,  all  of  them.     Shall  I  fetch  them  ?  " 

Ephraim  nodded  assent;  his  head  was  all  in  a 
whirl  with  Schnauzerle's  long  and  crowded  story; 
he  had  not  for  several  days  been  accustomed  to  con- 
verse with  any  human  being,  and  now  he  saw  sud- 
denly a  checkered  vagabond  life  shoot  about  before 
him  in  a  jack-o-lantern  zigzag,  and  at  so  many 
points  cut  across  his  life's  pathway.  Ephraim,  who 
had  always  floating  before  him  the  sense  of  a  mis- 
match between  his  character  and  his  condition,  loved 
also  to  seek  the  same  in  others,  and  shifted  every 
one  arbitrarily  out  of  his  given  position  into  the  one 
that  seemed  fitted  for  him.  Thus  he  now  transfer- 
red Schnauzerle  into  another  station  in  life  and  saw 
him  shine  in  the  salon  with  literary  renown  as  a  kind 


368  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

of  Rabelais  or  Yoltaire.  When  Schnauzcrle  came 
back  ill  his  Moorish  costume,  he  found  his  prisoner 
far  niore  pensive  than  before,  for  that  is  the  pecul- 
iarity about  the  conversation  of  a  wag,  that  it  be- 
comes dry  wood  so  soon  as  a  pause  ensues  and 
new  tricks  are  not  incessantly  started  up. 

In  a  few  hours  Schnauzerle  had  showed  up  his 
nature  and  his  fortunes;  all  further  could  be  nothing 
more  than  repetition  or  variation.  When  twilight 
set  in  Schnauzerle  withdrew. 

Ephraira  paced  with  short  steps  the  narrow  space 
of  his  i^rison;  suddenly  he  stopped  and  counted  the 
strokes  of  the  clock  in  the  neighboring  steeple,  it 
struck  eight;  from  another  tower  it  struck  again; 
Ephraim  again  counted;  the  same  with  a  third;  this 
was  a  torment  which  he  could  not  escape;  ever  since 
he  had  sat  here  in  confinement,  here  where  it  could  not 
be  of  the  least  consequence  to  him  what  hour  it  was, 
here  he  counted  involuntarily  every  stroke  of  the 
hammer;  by  no  action  of  the  mind,  but  only  by  mak- 
ing a  racket  with  table  and  chair,  or  crying  out  loud 
and  singing,  could  he  tear  himself  away  from  this 
numeration;  i^erhaps  he  could  not  avoid  this  impres- 
sion for  the  reason  that  in  the  perfect  silence  it  was 
the  only  tone  that  reached  him. 

The  burlesque  tricks  of  Schnauzerle  had  the  char- 
acteristic effect  upon  Ephraim  of  inclining  him  to 
melancholy.  He  placed  the  chair  on  the  table, 
mounted  upon  it  and  peered  out  into  the  starry 
night.  Right  over  him  shone  Jupiter  with  his  blu- 
ish flame. — "  O  these  stars,"  he  said  to  himself,  almost 


THE   VAGRANT.  ^09 

aloiul,  "they  are  worlds  peopled  likQ  our  earth,  aud     ^ 
even  much  larger  than  it;  lo,  there  sweL'i>  miUioitSP  - 
of  worlds,  and  our  earth  is  only  a  drop  in  the  sea,  in 
which  a  heap  of  worms  wriggle,  called  humanity ;  1 
mount  from  star  to  star,  from  world  to  world.     Hold 
fast,  my  spirit,  and  tremble  not  before  the  immensi- 
ty;  lo,  here  thou  standest  and  lookest  down  upon 
the  dust-heap  where  they  contend  with  each  other 
in  nations  and  religions,  till  death  shakes  them  off 
like  the  leaves  from  a  tree;  lo,  here  and  there  they 
have  set  their  houses  together,  how  they  race  and 
chase,  amuse  themselves,  hate  and  love,  starve  and 
gormandize;  there,  on  the  countless  sand  of  the  sea- 
shore, there  under  a  tiny  pebble  lies  a  fly  imprisoned, 
how  she  moans  and  wails  !     The  pebble,  that  is  my 
prison,  and  I  am  the  fly;  exult,  my  soul,  on  liigh 
above  the  worlds,  thou  art  free — O  eternity  !     End- 
less eternity,  would  men  only  recognize  thee,  they 
would  share  the  eartli  lovingly;  but  now  each  will 
have  all  the  room  for  himself;  when  will  life  begin, 
and  peace  and  freedom  ?     Death,  thou  art  the  only 
Saviour ! " 

Long  sat  Ephraim  there  feeling  his  way  into  the 
centre  of  the  world's  being;  he  held  his  hand  to  his 
forehead;  his  wits  seemed  to  reel;  sighing  he  shut 
the  window  and  laid  himself  on  his  board. 

The  next  day  Schnauzerle  came  and  took  him  to 
trial.  Already  during  the  ten  days  of  his  imprison- 
ment Ephraim  had  been  preparing  himself  for  this. 
He  meant  to  represent  to  the  judge  with  deflance 
and  sharpness  how,  not  he  alone,  but  most  Chris- 
24 


3 70  POE  T  A ND  MER  CHANT. 

tians  had  false  passes,  inasmuch  as  their  baptismal 
certificates  were  made  out  in  the  name  of  Christ — 
and  so  on.  But  now  when  he  came  before  the  judge 
he  suddenly  felt  an  unconquerable  trembling  and 
quaking.  In  thought  he  had  already  in  a  hundred 
ways  questioned  the  national  validity  of  the  state 
authorities,  nay,  the  whole  order  of  the  world;  he 
who  defiantly  arrayed  himself  against  the  state  au- 
thorities stood  here  cast  down  and  submissive,  for 
he  stood  here,  the  first  time  in  his  life,  before  a 
judge,  in  open  conflict  with  the  power  of  the  state, 
accused  of  forgery;  besides  Ephraim  had  from 
youth  up  been  accustomed  to  regard  every  official 
with  lowliness  and  reverence,  and  even  at  this  ad- 
vanced age  he  had  not  the  courage  to  stand  out 
boldly. 

The  judge  had  contrived  a  rat-tail  string  of 
counts,  and  worried  Ephraim  with  it;  there  were  as- 
saults upon  the  rights  of  nobility,  forgery,  fraud,  etc., 
and  an  inquisitorial  inquiry  as  to  the  object  and  oc- 
casion of  the  notes  in  his  memorandum-book.  During 
the  delivery  of  his  observations  it  was  as  if  an  in- 
vading horde  of  soldiers  dragged  slumbering  chil- 
dren from  their  beds.  Ephraim  saw  with  profound 
sympathy  for  himself  his  most  individual  and 
deeply  concealed  life  dragged  into  the  light  and 
called  to  account;  what  he  had  felt  in  still  and 
sacred  hours,  and  what  he  had  sharpened  into  an 
arrow  in  bold  presumption  and  antagonism  to  the 
world — all  that  he  was  now  summoned  to  justify 
and  explain.     He  saw  himself  placed  all  alive  under 


THE  VAGRANT.  371 

the  dissecting-knife  of  the  anatomist.  He  demeaned 
liimself  with  a  perfect  faint-heartedness;  he  confess- 
ed all,  for  he  wished  to  end  his  confinement  speedily 
and  pay  his  penalty;  he  inwardly  persuaded  himself 
also  that  he  could  look  down  with  a  smile  on  +' 
petty  machinery  and  motives  beneath  him.  Thv 
judge  seemed  surprised  at  these  voluntary  confes- 
sions. 

In  one  thing  only  Ephraim  remained  steadfast: 
he  concealed  the  name  of  the  person  who  had  drawn 
up  his  false  pass,  and  demanded  with  resolution  that 
Trevirano,  his  betrayer,  should  be  confronted  with 
him.  The  judge  asserted  that  he  knew  no  man  of 
that  name.  His  books,  too,  for  which  Ephraim 
earnestly  begged,  were  refused  him. 

A  hundred  times  more  dark  and  sweltry  than 
ever  did  the  gloomy  solitude  seem  to  Ephraim,  when 
after  his  trial  he  was  brought  back  again  to  prison. 
He  ran  round  like  a  madman,  but  at  last  he  was 
compelled  to  calm  himself;  he  could  no  longer  find 
free  thought  of  his  own;  it  was  to  him  as  if  his 
whole  soul's  life  were  fastened  to  a  chain,  of  which 
the  last  ends  were  riveted  into  the  court  records. 

Schnauzerle  came  now  very  often;  Ephraim  re- 
fused to  understand  him  Avhen  he  remarked  repeat- 
edly that  all  men  were  blind  and  dumb,  unless  one 
applied  gold  to  the  eyes  and  tongue. 

One  morning  Ephraim  was  taken  again  to  the 
court-room;  irons  lay  upon  the  table;  the  judge  came 
in  and  announced  to  the  criminal  that  he  must  pay 
a  fine  of  several  hundred  dollars  too^ether  with  the 


372  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

costs  of  examination  and  imprisonment,  and  drag  the 
cart  for  a  year;  hereupon  the  judge  handed  the  irons 
to  Schnauzerle  to  have  them  put  on  to  Ephraim. 
Ephraim  stood  there,  with  his  eyes  staring  wide  open, 
passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead ;  it  was  there  as 
if  an  adder  suddenly  darted  his  poisonous  teeth  into 
his  brain,  but  as  with  the  speed  of  lightning  he  be- 
gan again  suddenly  to  laugh  aloud;  he  had  placed 
himself  with  his  consciousness  high  above  himself, 
and  now  looked  down  transfigured  upon  the  extra- 
ordinary complication  of  a  thread  of  life,  which  lay 
over  against  him  as  a  foreign  spectacle;  there  stood 
a  man  who  had  cruised  about  wildly  and  crazily 
through  the  world,  who  many  a  night  had  wrestled 
with  demons  and  conquered  them,  there  he  stood 
now,  and  was  to  have  irons  put  upon  his  feet !  Was 
not  that  an  extraordinary  fiction  of  the  poetic  mind? 
He  conjured  up  in  his  thoughts  still  more  extraordi- 
nary complications,  he  no  longer  knew  whether  he 
were  physician  or  patient,  poet  or  poem;  he  knew  no 
longer  who  he  was. 

The  judge  took  this  singular  start  and  this  wild 
laughter  of  Ephraim's  for  an  attack  of  craziness,  of 
which  Schnauzerle  had  already  given  him  intelligence. 
Ephraim  was  remanded  to  his  prison.  At  his  request 
he  there  received  permission  to  inform  his  relatives 
by  letter  of  his  fate,  but  Schnauzerle  drew  his  atten- 
tion again  to  the  fact  "  that  people  only  double  up 
their  fists  until  one  chooses  to  put  money  in  their 
hands,  and  then  they  open  handsomely;"  at  last  he 
came  out  with  a  free  utterance,  and  Ephraim  gave 


THE  VAGRANT.  373 

him  full  power  to  use  all  his  property  for  purposes 
of  bribing,  etc.  He  asked  nothing  but  his  books 
and  so  much  of  the  rest  of  his  money  as  would  carry 
him  buck  by  post  to  Breslau. 

Towards  evening  Schnauzerle  came  triumphantly 
to  Ephraim  in  his  prison  with  a  pass  for  Breslau.  He 
reckoned  up  all  the  money  and  assured  him  he  had 
not  kept  a  farthing  for  himself.  ''The  criminal 
court  was  criminally  lax,"  Sclinauzerle  said,  "but  if 
a  regent  will  have  corruptible  officers,  he  has  only  to 
make  tyrannical  laws,  then  one's  conscience  gives  him 
absohition  when  he  peeps  through  his  fingers." 
Ephraim  answered  not  a  syllable;  the  prison-door 
was  open;  he  insisted  upon  staying  here  this  one 
night.  Not  without  sadness  did  he  the  next  morning 
bid  farewell  to  this  place:  twice  he  turned  round 
when  he  was  already  on  the  steps,  and  contemplated 
the  walls  and  the  furniture  upon  which  his  eyes  so 
long  had  rested.  He  thought  of  the  innumerable  suc- 
cessors who  like  him  would  moan  there,  and  now 
for  the  first  time  he  pressed  out  a  tear  from  his  eye- 
lashes. 

Ephraim's  first  act  after  his  release  was  to  release 
his  fellow-prisoner,  Chulicki.  It  was  a  singular  rela- 
tion, to  stand  eye  to  eye  with  the  man  with  whom 
he  had  conversed  invisibly  and  by  singing.  ChuUcki 
was  a  nature  that  had  run  wild,  and  when  with  a 
mixture  of  pride  and  subserviency  he  thanked  him 
for  his  release,  Ephraim  replied: 

"  It  is  better  to  have  nothing  at  all,  than  only  a 
wretched  remnant." 


374  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

In  fact  Ephraim  had  that  pleasure  in  profuseness 
which  takes  possession  of  one  who  sees  himself  lost, 
and  now  in  dejection  throws  away  from  him  every 
remaining  support,  in  order  to  stand  wholly  bare. 
Chulicki  would  fain  have  attached  himself  to  him, 
but  Ephraim  laughingly  declined. 

In  the  company  of  his  books  Ephraim  sat  in  the 
coach  on  his  way  to  Breslau;  at  a  spring,  which 
flowed  by  the  roadside,  he  alighted  and  stared  a 
long  time  into  the  clear  mirror;  he  had  not  for  a 
long  time  seen  the  features  of  his  face;  he  turned 
away  several  times  and  looked  again  into  the  liquid 
glass;  it  was  to  him  as  if  he  saw  therein  an  old  man 
with  the  face  of  a  stranixer. 


24— RETURN  HOME. 

AFTER  an  interval  of  more  than  ten  years  Eph. 
raim  alighted  once  more  at  the  inn  well  known 
to  us,  at  Deutchlissa.  Immediately  on  alighting  he 
requested  the  host  to  advance  to  the  postilion  tem- 
porarily the  necessary  fare  and  drinking-money. 
The  host  measured  the  new-comer  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  wondering  look  and  quickly  put  on  again 
with  a  look  of  assurance  the  cap  which  he  had  held 
in  his  hand;  he  ran  out  to  help  bring  the  great 
trunks  into  the  house;  he  himself  lent  a  hand,  and 
with  a  friendly  grimace  he  hefted  their  weight.  In 
the  guest-room  the  stranger  requested  writing  mate- 
rials and  a  messenger  to  send  to  Breslau. 

"  Good  weather  for  traveling,"  said  the  host  to  his 
guest,  on  re-entering;  "  every  fair  day  we  get  now  is  a 
gift  outright;  the  proA^erb  says  :  After  Michaelmas 
our  Lord  God  does  not  owe  the  Germans  another 
pleasant  day." 

"Nor  does  he  properly  the  whole  year  round,"' 
answered  Ephraim. 

"  Has  the  gentleman  ever  been  in  this  country  be- 
fore ?  "  asked  the  host  again. 


376  POE  T  AND  MERC  HA  NT. 

"  Yes,  several  years  ago." 

"  Isn't  it  a  fact,  one  would  hardly  know  Silesia 
any  longer?  The  roads  as  clean  and  smooth  to 
travel  as  a  table,  for  with  the  officials  the  word  is: 
Look  out !  Things  go  on  no  longer  as  in  the  Aus- 
trian times,  then  it  cost  heaven  and — money,  and 
nothing  was  done.  Thank  God  that  we  are  Prus- 
sians! From  the  beginning  we  were  unwilling  to 
trust  our  old  Fritz,  because  we  imagined  he  would 
treat  us  Catholics  like  step-children,  but:  Think 
what  you  will  and  pay  what  you  must,  is  liis  prov- 
erb; all  are  alike  to  him." 

"Yes,  in  paying  taxes,"  replied  Ephraim,  "and 
there  it  always  happens  that  tliey  who  have  the 
fewest  rights  must  pay  the  most." 

"  Between  ourselves,"  the  host  continued,  "  he  has, 
properly,  no  religion  at  all.  Since  his  f atlier's  death 
he  has  been  once  to  God's  table!  but  what  does  that 
concern  us  ?  Every  one  must  carry  his  skin  to  market 
himself;  one  thing  is  certain,  the  land  has  much  to 
thank  him  for.  The  potato  salad  you  are  eating 
there — those  are  good  potatoes,  ar'n't  they?  just  like 
meal !  six  years  ago  we  knew  nothing  of  them — there 
you  have  an  example  ready  to  hand,  what  we  owe 
liim.  The  stupid  peasants  cried  murder  when  six 
years  since  at  the  king's  command  they  had  to  ])kint 
the  potato ;  there  was  nothhig  hut  poison  in  the  cluiJips, 
and  the  object  teas  to  nialce  them  po6r. — Such  is  the 
people — one  must  force  their  blessings  down  their 
throats  in  spite  of  their  screaming,  as  one  does  an 
infant's  pap.     In  the  awful  famine  of  last  year,  they 


RETURN  HOME.  377 

thanked  God  a  thousand  times  that  they  had  pota- 
toes; how  many  thousand  would  otherwise  have 
starved!  Whoso  undertakes  to  say  anything  against 
my  king,  has  to  do  with  me,"  conchided  the  host, 
pouring  out  a  glass  of  potato  schnapps,  and  drank  it 
down  at  one  gulp. 

Ephraim  handed  the  letter  to  the  waiting  messen- 
ger; the  host  hurried  after  the  man,  overtook  him  in 
the  yard  and  read  the  address:  "'To  the  brothers 
Kuh  in  Bueslau.' — Hallo,  there's  a  chance  for  one  to 
borrow,"  he  said,  smirking  to  himself,  went  back  tc 
his  guest,  seated  himself  by  him  with  proud  con- 
descension, and  communicated  that  he  never  judged 
according  to  appearances,  on  the  whole  was  not 
given  to  prejudice,  this  trait  of  his  had  pleased  so 
much  the  great  Fritz,  who  on  his  revie wing-rides  had 
twice  stopped  at  his  house;  to  him  Christian  and 
Jew,  Turk  and  Pagan,  were  alike,  they  were  all 
human  beings  after  all.  The  Jews  too,  by  the  way, 
were  brave  and  were  men,  like  others. 

Ephraim  asked  for  his  chamber. 

"Have  you  also  heard,"  said  the  host,  as  he  pre- 
ceded his  guest  up-stairs,  "that  it  is  whispered,  be- 
cause there  was  so  great  a  famine,  the  potentates 
also  have  a  deep  stomach,  so  they  have  made  up  a 
Polish  salad;  one  pours  on  the  oil,  another  the  vine- 
gar, a  third  puts  in  the  pepper;  now  they  stir  all  to-, 
gether,  then  it  is  portioned  out  to  be  eaten;  jesting 
aside,  the  restless  kingdom  of  Poland  is  to  be  torn 
to  pieces,  the  Russian  and  the  Austrian  take  each 
a  piece  of  it,  and  we — we  don't  go  away  empty,  we 


378  POE  T  AND  MER CHANT. 

eat  Saxony  as  a  buttered  roll,  and  when  once  the 
king  of  Prussia  is  emperor — any  further  com- 
mands?" 

"No,"  answered  Ephraim,  and  shut  himself  up  in 
his  chamber. — With  his  burning  forehead  pressed 
vigainst  the  window-pane,  he  stared  out  into  the 
street,  he  thought  of  the  mournful  manner  of  his  re- 
turn. Swiftly  his  mind  darted  through  all  the  rows 
of  houses,  and  looked  out  at  the  Avindows;  he  saw 
himself  plodding  along  with  downcast  look,  he 
knew  all  that  they  were  whispering  there,  and  heard 
all  their  wise  talk;  drawing  back  his  head  he 
quickly  turned  round  and  paced  the  chamber  up  and 
down;  he  stopped  before  his  trunks,  contemplated 
them  for  some  seconds,  opened  one,  took  out  a  book 
and  threw  himself  on  the  bed.  Long  and  busily  he 
read  the  well-thumbed  leaves,  till  the  book  dropped 
from  his  hands  and  he  fell  asleep. 

How  long  he  had  slept  he  knew  not,  when  sud- 
denly he  heard  a  knocking  at  the  door  and  his  name 
called;  he  sprang  up,  opened,  and  lay  in  his  brother 
Nathan's  arms;  but  quickly,  as  if  an  alarming 
thought  startled  him,  he  tore  himself  away,  sat  still 
on  the  bed  and  stared  at  his  brother  with  glazed 
eyes. 

"  What  is  thy  name  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  thy  brother,  what  matters  it  to  thee,  what 
name  I  bear  in  the  church-register  ?  " 

"Thou  art  now  too  in  the  company  that  collects 
the  Jews'  tax,  art  thou  comfortably  situated  there  ?  " 

It   was   but  gently  and  with  the  most  cautious 


RE  TURN  HOME.  3  Y  9 

words  that  Nathan  could  bring  his  brother  to  a  con- 
fidential disclosure  of  his  inner  and  outer  experiences. 
Illusions,  wrongs  and  maltreatments  of  all  kinds 
Ephraini  recited  with  a  cold  indifference,  with  an 
orderliness  from  which  one  might  see  that  he  meant 
to  vouch  for  it,  that  he  had  long  since  buried  in  the 
grave  all  inspired  feelings  for  love  and  friendship, 
human  happiness  and  human  confidence,  and  now 
pursued  his  way  cold  and  immovable  by  their  sunken 
grave-stones. 

"  As  a  beggar  I  lift  my  brotherly  hand  to  thee," 
he  concluded ;  "  give  me  clothes  and  money  enough  to 
last  me  till  I  reach  the  so-called  savages;  there  I 
shall  need  your  coined  money  and  your  coined  faith 
no  more!  or  art  thou  already  so  far  on  in  your 
Christianity,  that  thou  hast  no  feeling  for  my  unut- 
terable sorrow  ?  Hast  thou  also  a  mischievous  joy 
and  malice  in  thy  heart  towards  the  Jew,  who  is  thy 
born  brother  ?  " 

"Thou  wilt  always  that  others  shall  forget  thou 
art  a  Jew,  and  thou  thyself  never  forgettest  it,"  re- 
plied Nathan,  sharply,  and  then  went  on  more  ten- 
derly: "Look,  I  pray,  into  the  glass;  thou  art  sick, 
come  with  me  to  Breslau,  there  thou  wilt  get  well." 

Almost  without  a  will  of  his  own,  Ephraim  let 
himself  be  induced  to  return  to  his  native  town. 

"  IIow  would  it  do,"  he  said  to  Nathan  when  they 
were  seated  in  the  carriage,  "how  if  we  should  let 
the  horses  take  the  reins,  and  harness  ourselves  to 
the  coach  ?  " 

"In  that  case  we  should  have  to  have  another 


380  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

kind  of  harness,"  replied  Nathan,  smiling  and  look- 
ing his  brother  sharply  in  the  eye. 

"Yes,  another  religion,"  replied  the  latter;  he  un- 
dertook to  take  a  pinch  of  snuif,  but  opened  the  box 
upside  down,  and  spilled  the  contents;  he  began  to 
laugh  aloud ;  Nathan  again  fastened  a  keen  look  upon 
his  brother,  and  shook  his  head. 

They  had  not  driven  far,  when  Ephraim  suddenly 
jumped  out  of  the  carriage  and  ran  back;  Nathan 
cried  out,  but  Ephraim  would  not  hear,  till  suddenly 
he  fell  over  a  pile  of  stones;  Nathan  hastened  to  him, 
lifted  him  up;  the  blood  ran  from  Ephraim's  fore- 
head, the  sharp  stones  had  torn  the  skin  of  his  face. 
After  a  w^hile  Ephraim  again  sprang  out  of  the  car- 
riage. Nathan  did  not  turn  back  this  time,  but  crack- 
ed the  whip  and  drove  on;  Ephraim  sat  down  in  the 
ditch  by  the  roadside,  and  looked  after  his  brother 
with  tears  in  his  eyes;  when  he  no  longer  saw  the  cloud 
of  dust,  he  ran  after  him  weeping  and  screaming, 
but  Nathan  did  not  hear.  At  this  moment  they 
came  to  a  hill;  Ephraim  exerted  his  last  remaining 
strength,  screamed  and  ran;  panting  he  came  up 
with  Nathan,  who,  without  saying  a  word,  reached 
out  his  hand  to  him  and  lifted  him  into  the  carriage. 

"My  wife  is  greatly  rejoiced  at  thy  arrival,"  said 
Nathan,  at  last;  "she  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  thine, 
she  says;  dost  thou  remember  Rosa  Petzhold,  the 
daughter  of  our  writing-master  ?     That  is  my  wife." 

Ephraim  pressed  his  lips  tightly  together.  "  I  will 
aliglit  at  our  brother  Maier's,"  he  said,  and  in  a  per- 
fectly calm  and  rational  tone  he  asked,  after  a  j^ause: 


RE  TURN  HOME.  381 

"Dost  tliou  feel  thyself  now  entirely  al pari  with 
a  Christian  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Nathan  Frederick. 

"I  could  never  bring  myself  to  it,"  continued 
Ephraim;  "even  on  the  best  footing  of  familiarity, 
I  feel  myself  under  a  favor,  bound  by  regard  and 
gratitude.  I  should  like  once  to  have  a  tussle  with 
a  Christian.  Indulge  me  with  one  thyself,  thou  art 
a  Christian." 

Again  Xathan  looked  at  his  brother  at  these 
strange  flights  and  sought  in  every  way  to  calm  him. 

Before  the  gate  stood  a  female  form  dressed  in 
mourning;  she  wore  a  veil  fastened  on  her  head,  and 
over  the  forehead  almost  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
eyebrows  was  laid  a  heart-shaped  peaked  piece  of 
black  crape;  she  stretched  out  both  hands  to  the 
new-comer.  Nathan  kept  still.  Violet  mounted  the 
steps;  a  scream  of  joy,  and  she  lay  weeping  on  her 
brother  Ephraim's  neck,  then  she  stroked  his  fore- 
head and  chin  and  looked  fondly  into  his  restless 
eyes. 

"  How  I  came  to  be  so  bruised,  thou  wouldst  ask  ?  " 
began  Ephraim ;  "  I  fell  over  a  heap  of  stones  on  my 
way,  but  why  dost  thou  wear  mourning  ?  " 

Violet  now  related  that  within  a  half-year  she 
had  returned  a  widow  to  her  home;  she  begged  her 
brother  in  the  most  fervent  terms  to  live  with  her; 
they  would  set  up  a  peaceful  life,  would  spend  their 
days  together  in  domestic  tranquillity.  She  described 
to  him  how  she  had  arranged  his  chamber.  She 
painted  in  the  most  alluring  colors  how  she  would 


S82  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

care  for  him,  nurse  him,  do  anything  for  him.  But 
Ephraira  answered  coldly; 

"The  wisest  course  would  be  for  thee  to  marry 
again,  Violet;  I  do  not  want  to  have  people  pointing 
at  our  house  and  saying,  there  live  two  bankrupt 
widows;  no,  no,  besides  I  shall  not  stay  here." 

As  they  drove  in  through  the  gate,  Ephraim  took 
his  sister's  hand  and  said: 

"  Dost  thou  still  remember  the  history  of  Ruth  in 
the  Bible  ?  When  the  noble  mother  returned  from  her 
wanderings  to  Bethlehem,  the  whole  city  was  aston- 
ished, and  said:  Is  that  Amorosa?  But  she  said: 
Call  me  no  more  Amorosa,  call  me  Dolorosa,  for  the 
Lord  has  given  me  bitterness  and  sorrow.  Would 
that  I  might  only  glean  the  ears,  too,  like  liuth, 
barefoot  in  the  stubble.  I  stand  here  as  a  beggar; 
let  me  not  starve,  Job  is  my  name." 

There  was  silence  all  round. 

The  first  news  Ephraim  heard  on  the  threshold  of 
his  native  city,  was  the  intelligence  of  the  death  of 
his  oldest  brother,  Maier,  who  had  been  dead  three 
years. 


25— THE  SORROWS  OF  WERTIIER. 

FOR  several  days  Ephraim  lay  in  bed  and  received 
no  visits;  in  the  Jewish  congregation  of  Breslau 
the  most  fabulous  reports  succeeded  each  other  con- 
cerning the  fate  and  appearance  of  Ephraim.  At 
the  breaking  up  of  the  Brody  synagogue  they  talked 
with  an  especial  liveliness  on  the  subject,  and  Hey- 
mann  Lisse  made  all  laugh  by  remarking  that  there 
were  cows  (Kuhs)  which  one  could  not  milk  because 
they  sucked  their  own  milk  if  one  did  not  tie  them 
with  a  short  halter  to  the  crib. 

This  kind  of  mockery  Ephraim  anticipated,  hence 
lie  refused  to  see  any  one ;  only  when  Philippina  an- 
nounced herself,  he  smiled  again  and  begged  she 
might  be  admitted. 

"How  dost  thou  like  my  face?"  said  Ephraim; 
*' isn't  that  a  fashionable  beauty-patch?" 

"Tliou  saidst  thou  wast  going  to  the  savages,  and 
hast  been  tattooing  thyself  beforehand  comme  ii 
faut^^  replied  Philippina. 

With  this  single  answer  Ephraim  was  suddenly 
transported  back  again  into  the  old  relation  to  his 


384  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

gay  cousin ;  the  many  years  since  they  had  last  seen 
each  other  had  to  be  sure  entirely  changed  her  out- 
ward appearance,  but  not  in  the  least  her  peculiar 
character.  She  was  of  a  well-to-do  aspect,  but  still 
had  the  same  gracieuse  unrest,  the  same  sprightly 
and  saucy  humor. 

"Why  dost  thou  look  at  me  so?"  she  asked, 
"  wilt  thou  take  an  exact  pattern  of  me  ?  Dost  thou 
see,  such  I  am."  She  whirled  round  on  her  left  foot 
and  made  a  courtesy. 

"Thou  look'st  very  respectful,"  observed  Eph- 
raim. 

"Ah,  heavens!  don't  say  anything  to  me  about 
that,"  replied  Philippina;  "I  have  been  vexed  enough 
that  I  have  not  more  dignity,  more  aplomb,  as  Taiib- 
chen  would  say;  people  always  treat  me  as  if  I  were 
sixteen  years  old,  and  if  I  say  anything  serious,  or 
undertake  to  come  out  pointedly,  they  laugh.  I 
have,  for  a  long  time,  taken  great  pains  to  tramp 
along  with  majestic  composure,  in  this  way,  seest 
thou  ?  and  wave  my  hand  ever  so  lightly,  or  to  smile 
graciously,  but  it  soon  grows  too  close  for  me.  I 
tear  off  all  the  ribbons,  and  now  I  feel  well  again; 
there  is  nothing  more  tedious  than  what  is  called 
dignity.  I  cannot  lit  it  to  myself  and  now  I  will 
not  try  any  more. — I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  thee, 
dear  cousin." 

"Well?" 

"When  thou  art  out  of  humor,  do  not  let  the 
world  have  the  pleasure  of  consoling  thee.  Then 
every  one  comes  and  will  have  his  portion  of  wo- 


THE  SORROWS  OF  WERTIIER.  385 

begone  face;  send  him  off  with  a  laugh.  When  thou 
hast  any  trouble,  bring  it  to  me.  I  am  a  good  cup- 
board." 

E})hraim  took  it  for  granted  that  his  cousin  gladly 
heightened  her  natural  gayety  in  order  to  cheer  him 
up.  The  town-history,  that  is,  the  history  of  the 
Jewish  congregation,  for  the  last  ten  years,  offered 
rich  material;  into  Philippina's  narrative  there  en- 
tered, despite  all  her  good  nature,  a  certain  element 
of  satire;  out  of  the  circle  of  town-history  they  soon 
passed  over  again  to  the  central  point  of  family-his- 
tories. 

"  What  shouldst  thou  say  to  this,"  asked  Philip- 
pina,  "  that  thy  sister-in-law  Taubchen  has  run  away 
with  a  death's-head?*  It  was  a  handsome  officer, 
a  man  'like  an  Adonis.'  Such  kinds  of  'morn- 
and  eve-nts,'f  indeed,  belong  to  the  necessaire  of 
a  dame  of  the  haute  volee.  Taubchen  had  also 
learned  to  ride,  and  once  asked  her  riding-master 
whether  the  horse  was  religious — meaning,  of  course, 
good  and  gentle.  She  also  gave  gi-eat  parties,  and 
the  Messieurs  Christians  made  fun  of  her,  when  they 
had  eaten  to  their  hearts'  content  of  her  viands;  siic 
never  invited  a  Jew,  for,  'I  am  responsable  for  their 
violations  of  ho7i  ton,''  she  used  often  to  say,  and 
tlie  'Messieurs  Christians,'  too,  must  never  discover 
by  her  company  that  she  was  a  Jewess.  Thy  sister- 
in-law  Rosa,  she  is  so  sweet,  so  amiable,  so  good  and 

*  Name  given  to  Zielhen's  hussars. 

t  "Morgen-und  abenteuer,"  a  play  on  the  title  of  the  religious  book,  "Mor- 
gen  und  abend-opfer  " 


386  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

loving;  I  often  enjoy  Rosa,  she  is  so  still  and  happy 
and  makes  everybody  happy  with  a  look,  with  a 
smile,  with  nothing;  Rosa  is  the  best  of  florists; 
every  plant  thrives  with  her,  and  I,  I  love  flowers 
too,  but  I  forget  to  take  care  of  them,  and  they 
starve  under  my  hands;  Rosa  has  a  true  flower-hand. 
There,  make  a  poem  on  that  some  time." 

Ephraim  was  silent,  and  after  a  while  Philippina 
went  on: 

"  On  the  other  hand,  with  thy  sister-in-law  Tailb- 
chen  there  is  nothing  but  pride  and  rouge.  It  is  a 
pity  that  Taiibchen  is  no  longer  here,  for  she  used 
to  make  a  good  deal  of  fun  for  me;  I  was  quite  ex- 
clusively en  faveur  with  her.  I  cannot  compare  her 
culture  to  anything  else  than  an  actress  coming  on 
the  stage  with  only  one  cheek  painted.  She  has  sat 
half  a  day  at  a  time  all  alone  in  the  middle  of  the 
sofa  decolleth  and  with  the  lap-dog  in  her  arms, 
practicing  how  one  shall  assume  a  right  lady-like  at- 
titude. But  there  is  one  thing  I  envy  Rosa  most  of 
all." 

"  And  that  is  ?  " 

"  Only  think — she  never  has  ennui,  and  yet  is  so 
clever.  She  is  as  contented  as  a  tree  in  the  garden; 
she  can  be  still  and  yet  happy  for  a  week  at  a  time 
when  nothing  at  all  happens,  when  she  doesn't  stir 
from  one  spot;  and  I,  I  die  with  restlessness  if  for 
a  single  day  I  have  notliing  happen  to  me  and  noth- 
ing to  expect.  But  most  of  all  did  I  pity  thy  brother. 
The  good  Chajem  Achilles  found  it  all  fuss  and 
flurry  in  the  grand  parties,  where  he  had  himself  to 


THE  SORROWS  OF  WERTIIER.  387 

play  great  folks;  when  he  came  to  see  me  he  breath- 
ed freely  again;  now  he  has  gone  with  Taiibchen  on 
a  tour  to  Paris." 

When  Philippina  at  length  departed,  Ephraim's 
eyes  followed  her  with  a  heavy  look. 

His  first  visit  abroad  Ephraim  made  to  his  brother 
Nathan,  who  lived  in  a  garden  before  the  Oder-gate. 
He  found  his  brother  alone;  his  sister-in-law  had 
gone  out. 

Nathan  now  showed  Ephraim  with  the  satisfac- 
tion of  quiet  possession,  his  house,  its  convenient 
arrangements,  the  laying  out  of  the  garden,  etc. 

"  Come  here,  Ludwig,"  Nathan  called  out  to  a  boy 
of  about  six  years  old,  who  was  riding  his  hobby- 
horse in  the  yard,  "  give  the  gentleman  a  hand,  this 
is  thy  uncle  Ephraim." 

"And  hast  thou  brought  me  anything,  and  may 
I  ride  with  thee  in  thy  carriage  ?  "  said  the  child. 

The  face  of  Ephraim  darkened,  the  consciousness 
of  his  poverty  fell  heavily  on  his  heart;  he  could 
not  even  make  this  boy  a  present;  he  kissed  him  on 
his  forehead  and  mouth;  it  was  the  forehead  and 
lips  of  his  mother;  the  boy  rode  off.  Nathan  took 
his  brother  round  through  the  garden;  suddenly 
Ephraim  stopped,  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes 
and  stamped  on  the  ground. 

"See,  brother,"  said  he,  "thou  standest  here  on 
thy  own  ground  and  soil,  a  piece  of  the  great  earth 
is  thine,  down  to  the  lowest  depth  up  to  the  height  of 
heaven,  it  is  thine;  thou  liast  a  firm  foothold  on  the 
earth — and  I,  I  can  say  with  Christ:  'I  have  not 


388  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

where  to  lay  my  head.'  Tlie  leaf  which  I  pluck 
from  the  tree,  the  flower  I  pluck  from  the  meadow, 
are  they  mine?  Only  a  hand's  breadth  of  earth 
would  I  fain  have  for  my  own,  out  of  doors,  where 
fpring  and  winter,  sun  and  storm  may  rise  on  my 
earth  too;  I  pray  thee,  Nathan,  or  Frederick,  as  thou 
art  now  called,  pardon  me,  I  cannot  yet  accustom 
myself  to  it;  I  pray  thee,  give  me  a  little  piece  of 
garden;  I  will  give  thee  one  of  my  teeth  for  it, 
whichever  thou  wilt,  that  is  still  my  own;  don't 
laugh,  I  am  no  child,  and  yet  does  not  the  fact  that 
children  love  to  have  little  gardens  for  themselves, 
fenced  round,  contain  a  deep  meaning  ?  See  brother, 
the  ground-idea  is  the  idea  of  ground  and  soil,  of 
possession,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Thou  comest  to  buy  when  the  market  is  already 
run  out,"  replied  Nathan  Frederick;  "thou  hast  ar- 
rived somewhat  too  late  at  a  view  of  the  necessity 
and  agreeableness  of  possession;  to  ownership  of 
the  soil  thou  couldst  not,  as  thou  well  knowest,  in  thy 
present  position,  have  attained;  consider  what  is 
mine  as  thine  own.     Must  I  be  thy  liege  lord  ?  " 

"Aha!  I  understand,"  interrupted  Ephraim;  "I 
cannot  as  a  Jew  hold  any  real  estate.  I  had  for- 
gotten that  that  is  a  Christian  sun  which  shines 
above  us;  yes,  those  are  Christian  birds  that  fly  over 
our  heads;  this  is  all  Christian  grass  and  flowers." 

The  garden-gate  was  heard  to  swing  open.  "  My 
wife,"  said  Nathan  ;  Ephraim  started;  at  no  more 
inappropriate  time  could  he  have  met  Rosa  again 
than  at  this  very  moment,  Avhen  the  shrill  discord 
of  religious  difl'erence  still  rang  in  his  ears. 


THE  SORROWS  OF  WE R TITER.  ^89 

Rosa  offered  her  brotlier-iii-law  her  hand  and  bade 
him  a  hearty  welcome;  Ephraim  hardly  dared  to 
raise  his  eyes  and  contemplate  Rosa's  charmingly 
majestic  form.  By  degrees,  however,  he  lost  more 
and  more  his  shyness;  he  scrutinized  her  features; 
they  were  still  the  same  that  had  once  impressed 
themselves  on  his  youthful  dreams,  and  yet  again  they 
were  quite  different;  the  radiant  friendliness  of  Rosa 
did  not  leave  him  long  to  his  scrutinizing  speculations. 
There  was  so  much  thoughtful  tranquillity  and  clear- 
ness, so  much  wisdom  in  her  whole  bearing,  that 
one  could  not  help  feeling  himself  immediately  at- 
tracted and  transported  into  a  clear  atmosphere; 
Rosa  even  respected  a  delicate  jest,  yet  with  a  cer- 
tain serene  smile,  by  which  she  did  not  forfeit  a 
dignified  bearing;  her  speech  was  void  of  wit  and 
yet  full  of  pleasantry. 

"  I  have  still  a  relic  of  you,"  she  said  among  other 
things  to  Ephraim;  "the  ABC  w^hich  you  set  as 
a  copy  for  me  in  the  writing-lesson  with  my  father 
of  blessed  memory;  I  had  it  a  long  time  lying  in  my 
prayer-book,  till  once  I  lost  it  on  the  way  to  church; 
when  I  found  it  again  I  took  better  care  of  it;  I  Avill 
show  it  to  you  sometime.  Those  were  delightful 
times,  when  we  still  were  so  young." 

"  If  father  had  only  not  looked  and  knocked  so 
Lard  at  one's  fingers,"  remarked  Nathan  Frederick 
with  a  smile. 

"  It  is  really  extraordinary,"  said  Ephraim  to  Rosa, 
when  they  were  alone  together,  "that  fate  should 
have  so  singularly  snatched  us  asunder  and  now  led 
you  to  me  again  as  my  sister." 


890  POE  T  A  ND  MER CHA  NT. 

"I  greet  yon  with  joy  as  a  brother,"  replied  Rosa, 
again  offering  him  her  hand. 

Ephraim  looked  straight  before  him  in  silence. 

"  I  hear  you  make  such  beautiful  poems,"  be- 
gan Rosa,  in  a  light  and  lively  manner;  "may  I  beg 
one  favor  of  you  ?  " 

"  All,  all,  if  you  wish." 

"  No,  not  so';  I  am  not  so  immodest  as  to  ask  that; 
only  this  one  thing  I  beg  of  you:  promise  me,  on  your 
word  as  a  man,  never  to  make  a  poem  on  me,  either 
in  praise  or  in  blame.  If  you  do  not  promise  me  that, 
I  could  not  speak  a  word  freely,  nor  give  myself  out 
without  embarrassment  as  is  fitting  between  rela- 
tions; I  should  always  be  thinking:  now  he  has 
caught  me  again.     Do  you  promise,  then  ?  " 

"  As  you  wish  it,  I  promise  willingly." 

Rosa  poured  herself  out  in  sympathetic  conversa- 
tion with  him;  she  was  as  gay  and  free  as  Philippina, 
only  more  calm,  one  might  say,  more  logical. 

Alone  and  thoughtful  Ephraim  lived  on  by  him- 
self; he  was  compelled  more  than  ever,  and  in  the 
midst  of  his  relations,  to  lead  a  self-secluded  exist- 
ence. 

A  cry  of  anguish  was  suddenly  wrung  from  the 
lips-of  many  German  youths  and  maidens;  the  pistol- 
shot  of  young  Jerusalem  woke  hundredfold  echoes; 
here  and  there  the  knell  of  a  pistol  was  heard  in  some 
hidden  thicket;  here  and  there  a  dagger  plunged  it- 
self into  some  poor  or  impoverished  heart,  and  a  sor- 
rowing soul  groaned  out  its  last. 

With  wet  eye  and  quivering  pulse,  Ephraim  read, 


THE  SORROWS  OF  JVER TITER.  391 

nay,  devoured,  the  "  Sorrows  of  Young  Werther." 
Old  as  he  ah-eady  was,  far  advanced  beyond  tlie  years 
of  youth,  yet  every  word,  every  breath  had  been 
stolen  fi'om  his  soul;  that  was  a  night  of  passion  un- 
der which  his  soul  quaked;  that  was  an  undreamed- 
of magic  of  speech  which  caused  common  words  to 
be  listened  to,  as  if  they  suddenly  sounded  out  melo- 
diously from  a  beloved  and  venerated  soul.  Ephra- 
im  felt  himself  distressed,  as  if  his  most  original  and 
personal  life-thoughts  and  experiences  were  wrested 
from  him,  and  set,  larger  and  deeper,  before  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  and  then  again  distorted  into  foreign 
relations;  he  was  angry  with  the  poet  who  had  rob- 
bed him  of  all  this;  he,  only  he  himself,  could  and 
must  tear  off  the  bandage  from  his  wounds  before 
the  world,  and  bleed  to  death,  or  rise  again  fresh,  re- 
deemed, crowned  with  laurel.  But  soon  he  rose  to 
the  pui'ely  human  point  of  view;  then  the  beatings 
of  his  heart  were  redoubled;  he  thanked  the  poetic 
spirit  which  in  the  far  distance  had  felt  sympathet- 
ically, nay,  even  prophetically,  the  faintest  agitations 
of  his  soul;  with  a  growing  sense  of  suffocation  he 
read  on  and  on  to  the  conclusion,  and  with  a  deep 
sigh  closed  the  book — he  had  seen  his  double;  he 
must  needs  die. 

Almost  the  Avhole  family  were  assembled  in  Na- 
than Frederick's  garden;  mention  was  made  of  the 
death  of  a  young  officer  who  had  the  night  before 
shot  himself  through  the  forehead;  the  Sorrows  of 
Young  Werther  lay  open  on  his  table. 

"The  man  had  already  a  scorched  brain,  and  has 
now  scorched  it  again,"  observed  Nathan  Frederick. 


802  POR  T  AND  ME R CHA N T. 

"The  book  is  deeply  affecting,"  sighed  Violet, 
"but  men  take  for  strength  what  is  properly  only 
weakness;  it  is  far  stronger  to  endure  a  life  than  to 
throw  it  away." 

"My  sympathies  are  all  with  Lottie,"  said  Philip- 
pina.  "  Good  Heavens !  what  a  horrible  thing  it 
were,  if  one  were  accountable  for  all  the  people 
who  choose  to  fall  in  love  with  one  or  had  done  so; 
one  could  no  longer  stir  or  turn  round  without  fear- 
ing to  tread  on  some  lover's  toes.  Now  it  will  be 
the  fashion  to  dress  d  la  Werther :  blue  frock,  yellow 
waistcoat,  white  pantaloons,  colors  that  never  prop- 
erly tone  together.  Yellow  and  white  necessarily 
require  a  light-brown  frock,  not  a  blue  one." 

"  Nothing  is  more  insipid  than  aping  others,"  ob- 
served Nathan  once  more.  "  When  one  is  going  to 
take  the  salto  mortale,  he  should  at  least  do  it  orig- 
inally, and  even  show  his  inventive  spirit.  Why 
dost  thou  bite  thy  lips  and  shake  thy  head,  Ephraim  ? 
What  dost  thou  say  to  the  sj)eculation,  if  one  should 
now  get  up  blue  merino  d  la  Werther?  I  think  it 
would  go  off  like  Avild-fire." 

Ephraim  still  made  no  reply.  Rosa  meanwhile 
came  to  him  and  asked  in  a  confidential  tone: 

"Why  so  dull?" 
'    "  And  so  dumb  ?  "  added  Philippina. 

"Do  you  regard  us  as  unworthy  to  hear  your 
view  ?  "  continued  Rosa. 

"  O,  no!  "  answered  Ephraim,  smiling;  he  had  just 
heard  how  such  an  "  aping  "  was  censured,  he  was  him- 
self ashamed  of  that,  and  would  now  fain  destroy 


THE  SORROWS  OF  WER TITER.  093 

every  suspicion  of  imitation  in  the  opinion  of  liis 
relatives,  therefore  he  now  said: 

"  I  see  notliing  in  the  whole  book  but  the  last  strag- 
glers bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  old  overstrained 
niinne-singer's  love-errantry:  an  idle  and  borne  man 
seeks  all  his  happiness  and  his  life's  end  in  love,  and 
because  love  alone  cannot  satisfy,  he  is  unhappy,  has 
all  the  time  one  foot  in  the  air,  and  knows  not  where 
he  shall  set  it  down.  This  Werther  is  an  impotent 
nature  possessed  by  an  overmastering  passion;  we 
see  all  his  moods  laid  bare  within  him;  we  follow 
their  currents,  as  according  to  a  legend  of  a  German 
emperor's  bride,  they  saw  the  red  wine  she  drank  run 
through  her  neck. — But  now  if  Werther  had  mar- 
ried Lottie,  he  would  have  been  still  more  unhappy, 
for  then  he  would  for  the  first  time  have  rightly 
seen  how  much  emptiness  there  still  was  in  his  life, 
and  how  many  faculties  slumbered  in  him  which 
must  all  decay  for  want  of  use.  Since  we  can  in  no 
direction  freely  unfold  ourselves,  nowhere  feel  our- 
selves borne  on  freely  in  the  full  force  of  our  nature, 
either  by  the  world  as  a  whole  or  by  the  life  of  the 
state,  we  seek  the  whole  salvation  of  our  existence  in 
a  turtle-dove-idyll,  and  are  and  must  be  disgracefully 
deceived.  In  Greek  antiquity,  love,  too,  Avas  not 
wanting,  but  it  did  not  absorb  all  the  life-juices  of 
the  youth:  country,  freedom,  glory,  the  public 
conversations  of  the  philosophers  and  the  public  dis- 
cussion of  state  affairs,  all  this  busied  heart  and 
head  of  the  youth  as  of  the  man,  and  thus  there  was 
no  such  thing  as  coming  to  the  state  of  madness, 


394  POET  AXD  MERCHANT. 

where,  for  the  sake  of  two  brown  or  blue  eyes,  one 
will  seek  to  turn  the  world  upside-down,  and  will 
rummage  and  distort  everything.  This  love-epi- 
demic, with  which  most  of  the  deeply  sensitive  souls 
of  our  time  are  affected,  is  nothing  but  a  consequence 
of  the  narrow-minded  and  dislocated  state  of  our 
private  and  public  relations;  since  we  can  in  no  di- 
rection stretch  out  our  hands  freely,  we  twine  them 
around  the  neck  of  a  maiden,  and  will  in  our  egotism 
find  there  all  that  which  nothing  but  a  life  fully  oc- 
cupied on  all  sides  can  supply.  There  is  a  mighty 
fermentation  everywhere;  it  always  seems  to  me  as 
if  the  whole  world  would  jump  out  of  its  skin,  such  a 
universal  discontent  prevails;  this  amorous  billing  and 
cooing  can  effect  nothing;  the  wedding-rings  on  the 
hands  of  men  and  women  are  nothing  but  rings  of  a 
great  chain,  by  which  the  whole  of  humanity  lies 
fettered." 

"So  all  people  say  w^ho  clutch  round  in  the  air 
with  empty  fingers,"  observed  Philippina. 

"  All  I  meant  to  say  by  that,"  Ephraim  continued, 
"was,  that  this  pusillanimous  fuss  and  fury  about 
single  persons  or  about  a  single  circle  is  answerable 
for  the  fact  that  the  world  is  kept  down  by  priests 
and  military  monarchs;  then  it  is  happy  in  its  cage, 
if  the  great  ones  stick  a  bit  of  sugar  in  the  wires. 
The  time  must  come  again  when,  free  and  uncon- 
strained, in  the  symmetrical  development  of  all  his 
practical  faculties,  every  one  shall  feel  himself  borne 
on  in  the  harmony  of  a  great  whole.  Love  and  do- 
mestic life  are  the  root  and  summit  of  all  the  joy  of 


THE  SORROWS  OF  WERTIIER.  305 

existence;  in  a  state  of  freedom  there  will  be  far 
fewer  unhappy  lovers,  for  love  will  no  more  be  the 
va  baiique  of  life,  and  if  it  is  lost,  then  there  are 
still  paths  enough  of  action  and  enjoyment  open; 
even  despairing  ones  there  may  still  be,  but  what  a 
heaven-wide  difference  there  is  between  the  suicide 
of  a  Cato  and  that  of  a  Werther !  Ah  !  that  one 
could  only  die  nobly  ! "  Ephraim  wiped  the  sweat 
from  his  forehead. 

"  For  God's  sake  only  say  nothing  of  suicide,"  said 
Violet,  striking  out  with  both  hands  into  the  air,  as 
if  she  would  ward  off  the  evil  thing;  "I  cannot  im- 
agine anything  more  horrible  for  the  survivors,  than 
when  a  relative  of  theirs  has  laid  violent  hands  upon 
himself;  when  one  dies  of  sickness,  that  is  sad 
enough,  and  yet  one  cannot  get  it  into  one's  convic- 
tions that  he  now  no  longer  exists;  it  was  only  an 
hour  ago  he  still  spoke,  took  medicine,  and  now 
dead  !  One  hates  himself  for  still  living,  one  hates 
all  life.  How  affecting  is  that  cry  of  Lear  over 
the  dead  body  of  Cordelia  :  Shall  a  dog,  a  horse,  a 
mouse  have  life,  and  thou  not  even  a  breath?  If 
mere  death  is  so  terrible,  then  self-murder,  the  sud- 
den extinction  of  full  life — it  is  to  me  always,  when 
I  think  of  such  a  thing,  as  if  one  bored  into  my  brain 
with  a  red-hot  iron." 

"  You  have  heated  yourself  very  much,"  said  Rosa, 
bringing  a  glass  of  eau  sucre  to  Ephraim,  " drink  this; 
I  thank  you  heartily  for  being  so  good  as  to  impart 
to  us  your  view.  I  can  conceive  that  one  cannot  al- 
ways or  to  everybody  express  such  things,     You  are 


396  POE  T  A  iVD  MERC  HA  NT. 

SO  good  that  you  will  certainly  one  day  be  right 
happy." 

Ephraim  took  with  a  smile  the  glass  of  sugar- 
water;  Nathan  walked  up  and  down  the  garden; 
Philippina,  for  whom  the  conversation  was  too  seri- 
ous, soon  diverted  it  to  other  topics. 

"  O  inconstancy,  inconstancy  !  "  said  Ephraim  to 
himself  when  he  was  alone  again;  "  under  the  mask 
with  which  I  would  have  deceived  others,  I  saw  deep- 
er into  myself,  and  found  the  truth,  for  it  is  truth, 
that  love  is  transitory  and  freedom  eternal.  But  are 
the  Philistines  right  when  they  assert  that  only  they 
who  in  some  way  or  other  have  become  bankrupts 
of  life  are  the  loud  champions  of  freedom  ?  No, 
self-interest  may  well  be  a  low  motive,  but  it  can 
serve  as  a  lever  to  lift  us  to  truth,  and  he  whom  life 
has  flung  up  so  high  that  he  stands  clear  out  of  it 
and  above  it,  may  the  more  freely  and  serenely  sur- 
vey it  and  attempt  to  control  the  wheel-work.  I  am 
old  and  want  nothing  more  for  myself." 

With  a  strange  medley  of  feelings  Ephraim  in- 
serted in  his  row  of  books  the  "  Sorrows  of  Werth- 


26.— THE  OLD  BACHELOR. 

A  QUIET  life,  in  which  all  storms  are  spent,  has 
its  pleasures  and  its  memorable  incidents,  not  a 
few,  still  left;  one  knows  exactly  the  state  of  the 
thermometer  for  the  day ;  one  becomes  familiar  with 
the  signs  of  change  in  the  weather;  one  is  in  readi- 
ness for  the  era  of  new  vegetables  which  the  next 
month  will  bring;  one  has  to  look  after  the  recruits 
and  see  what  new  exercise  they  will  begin  to-day; 
one  knows  what  progress  was  made  to-day  and  yes- 
terday in  the  building  of  the  new  house  in  Niemer- 
Row;  how  they  are  getting  on  with  the  cleaning  of  the 
public  walks,  and  who  dined  at  the  commandant's 
yesterday — these  are  all  good  things  to  kill  time,  and 
then,  too,  the  family  news,  and  if  one  corrects  a 
nephew's  school  exercise,  or  hears  him  say  his  Gel- 
lert's  fable,  and  then,  what  a  pity  the  day  has  only 
twenty-four  hours  ! 

Thus,  too,  did  Ephraim  live  for  years  in  the  still 
monotony  of  an  old  bachelor;  with  greater  content 
than  ever  he  now  labored  several  hours  every  day  in 
his  brother's  counting-house,  for  he  thereby  earned  his 


398  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

subsistence;  and  his  brothers  and  sisters  tried  all 
ways  to  make  his  life  comfortable  and  cheerful.  It 
was  a  melancholy  confession  which  he  once  made  to 
his  brother,  Nathan  Frederick:  "I  now  see  for  the 
first  time  that  I  was  originally  created  to  let  my  life 
be  determined  for  me  by  others;  to  go  on  in  a  pre- 
scribed path — that  is  my  calling.  Ah,  and  a  Jew 
must  begin  the  world  anew  with  himself.  I  awake 
at  evening;  I  have  dreamed  away,  worried  away 
the  best  part  of  life;  I  am  about  to  say,  Good-morn- 
ing, and  lo  !  it  is  night." 

In  this  state  of  tranquillity  Ephraim  became  con- 
scious of  many  evils  and  of  the  failure  of  his  pow- 
ers, and  now,  when  life  had  no  more  to  offer  him,  he 
had  to  expend  the  greatest  care  upon  its  preserva- 
tion; but  he  made  his  own  philosophy  out  of  it,  and 
expounded  it  to  Philippina  in  these  words: 

"  I  begin  again  to  spell  Life,  I  dissect  the  words  of 
existence  into  syllables  and  letters,  I  will  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  days,  years  and  large  periods  of 
time,  I  confine  myself  to  the  blossoms  called  min- 
utes, they  alone  are  ours.  This  thought  is  the  tinct- 
ure of  iron  which  I  give  my  mind,  and  that  works  a 
great  deal  better  than  this  from  the  apothecary's." 

The  tincture  of  iron  which  his  physician  had  or- 
dered him  he  always  carried  with  him,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  take  it  at  the  appointed  hour,  and  once  when 
he  came  to  Philippina's  she  quickly  took  the  bunch 
of  keys  from  her  apron,  "  for,"  said  she,  "  I  should 
be  afraid  Cousin  Iron-eater  would  sometime  devour 
all  ray  keys." 


THE  OLD  B  A  CUE  I  OR.  n09 

"I  fear  nothing  so  much  as  madness,"  Ephraim 
once  said  to  her,  "  with  broken  joints  to  be  dragged 
round  in  life  as  a  loathsome  pappy  mess,   paugli! 
that  must  be  horrible.     Why  do  they   shoot  mad 
dogs  and  not  mad  men  ?     Every  village  and  every 
city  ought  to  have  a  house  of  invalids,  where  all  old 
people,  men  and  women,  without  distinction,  rich 
and  poor,  should  be  sent;  there  every  one  could  live 
and  die   according  to  his  convenience  and  ability, 
and  the  young  could  freely  enjoy  life;  no  dry  knot 
should  be  left  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  budding 
and  blooming  world;  life  and  the  world  belong  to 
youth;  why  does  not  one  die  like  the  flower,  when 
one  has  bloomed  out  ?     Often,  when  I  am  alone,  mil- 
lions of  demonic  thoughts  whirl  and  whiz  round  me, 
and  clutch  at  my  brain ;  I  grow  dizzy,  I  reel,  I  must 
needs  cry  out — then  at  my  voice  they  are  frightened, 
and  like  mice  dart  off  to  their  holes.     O,  how  long 
and  distressful  is  the  night,  when  both  body  and 
soul  in  vain  yearn  for  sleep;  then  the  ghosts  of  past 
days,  of  plans  that  miscarried  in  the  past,  rise  up, 
and  all  is  so  dead,  so  alive.     I  soar  away  over  all 
that  has  departed,  I  want  a  future;  purposes,  hopes, 
wishes,  come  and  wave  their  salutations,  and  all,  all 
is  lost.     When  I  lie  in  bed  at  night,  perfectly  quiet, 
without  stirring  a  muscle,  my  eyes  closed,  and  I  see 
nothing  at  all,  then  Fantasy  sweeps  restlessly,  aim- 
lessly, to  and  fro;  often  I  feel  myself  borne  far,  far 
away;  I  think  upon  religion,  God,  death;  then  it  is 
to  me   as  if  I  suddenly  came  against  an  iron  lid,  or 
sank  into  a  bottomless  nothingness;  I  must  fly,  bo 


400  PORT  AND  MERCHANT. 

crushed  like  a  hollow  egg-shell;  then  I  find  no  longer 
any  way  to  help  myself,  I  ahiiost  die  with  restless- 
ness and  torment.  Hast  thou  ever  had  such  experi- 
ence, where  a  yelping  pack  of  evil  spirits  is  suddenly 
let  loose  upon  a  prey  ?  On  all  sides  they  hack  and 
tear  it  with  their  bloody  teeth;  when  I  would  quiet- 
ly pursue  a  thought,  all  of  a  sudden  the  dogs  come 
and  rend  and  strangle;  then  I  must  needs  stretch 
open  my  eyes,  only  to  see  something  which  hounds 
me  in  another  direction  and  lets  me  go;  I  see  the 
pale  light  gleam  through  my  windows,  that  relieves 
me;  I  count  the  panes,  I  grow  more  quiet  again;  I 
throw  a  chair  over  and  set  it  up  again,  that  always 
takes  my  mind  off  to  other  things;  then  I  get  up 
and  look  out  of  the  window,  then  I  say  to  myself: 
*  See,  there  dwells  Lippman  Maier,  there  dwells  the 
dyer,'  and  the  fact  that  I  still  know  this  is  to  me  an 
assurance  that  I  am  yet  in  the  ruts  of  common  rea- 
son;— but,  my  dear  child,  I  pray  thee,  throw  me 
down-stairs  instantly  if  I  ever  come  to  thee  crazy; 
feel  of  my  forehead,  how  it  burns;  in  the  bony  pot 
my  brain  boils  and  bubbles;  I  fear,  I  fear,  it  will  run 
over  yet." 

"Nothing  is  more  repulsive  than  to  see  any  one 
play  with  a  loaded  pistol;  I  pray  thee,  rise,"  replied 
Fhilij^pina,  without  losing  her  composure;  "it  is  not 
mannerly  of  thee  so  to  distress  me;  thou  tormentest 
thyself  as  well  as  me."  She  laid  her  hand  upon 
the  forehead  of  her  cousin,  who  by  this  touch  seemed 
suddenly  transformed.  "I  thought  thou  wert  quite 
happy  and  cheerful,"  Philippina  continued. 


THE  OLD  BACHELOR.  401 

"  Ah,  I  have  indeed  lost  all !  " 

"That  is  nothing,"  said  PhiHppina,  laugh itt^,'^if 
one  takes  off  an  arm  of  mine  to-day,  I  still  enjoy  the 
other  to-morrow;  indeed,  it  would  still  have  been 
my  duty  to  be  content  with  my  lot  if  God  had  sent 
me  into  the  world  with  only  one  arm.  If  I  could 
only  make  all  men  so  content  and  happy!  Just  lis- 
ten once:  thou  wilt  not  believe  me  when  I  tell  thee 
how  sensible  I  have  grown.  Dost  thou  know  why 
children  when  they  fall  down  do  not  hurt  them- 
selves? They  say  because  a  good  genius  protects 
them.  But  the  reason  is  simply  this:  Children 
never  rely  on  their  standing,  and  therefore  do  not 
defend  themselves  when  they  fall;  they  come  plump 
down  and  get  up  again  unharmed.  And  so  must 
we,  too,  do,  and  can,  if  we  will.  A  little  bump  does 
no  harm." 

Without  making  any  transition,  Philippina  took 
her  lute  and  sang  the  then  favorite  song,  "Thou 
hast  done  with  sighing  and  with  sorrow,"  from  the 
much  read  "Sigwart,  a  Story  of  the  Cloister,"  but 
hardly  had  she  ended  a  strophe  and  made  a  serious 
face  at  it,  when  he  burst  into  a  laugh  and  exclaimed: 
"  This  is  a  stupid  world  where  one  is  always  walking 
in  a  church-yard  by  moonlight  and  shedding  soft  tears 
over  death,  which  has  come  and  is  still  to  come. 
Thou,  too,  art  in  this  case,  though  thou  wilt  not  have 
it  so.  Pray  help  me  finish  the  verse  differently. 
Good-bye  yesterday,  all  hail  to-morrow!  ....  help 
me.  I  tell  thee  a  pinchbeck  joke  is  worth  more 
than  all  tear-drop  brilliants  set  in  rhyme."  And 
26 


402  POE T  AND  MER CHANT. 

forthwith  she  sang  in  a  gay  mood  an  old  song  of 
contentment.  These  tones,  these  words,  trickled 
like  heavenly  dew  on  Ephraini's  languishing  spirits. 
With  transfigured  countenance  he  sat  there  and  re- 
lated how  he  seemed  outwardly  to  be  leading  the 
usual  life  of  an  old  bachelor,  but  that  his  inner  self 
was  always  wakeful  and  full  of  youthful  freshness. 
That  it  was  this  which  often  led  him  to  the  dizzying 
brink  of  madness,  but  many  a  time  he  plucked  even 
there  a  little  flower,  a  little  epigram. 

"Thou  knowest,  of  course,"  added  Ephraim,  "that 
epigrann  is  a  Greek  word,  meaning  originally  writ- 
ten upon^  and  was  applied  to  monumental  inscrip- 
tions. Precisely  in  this  point,  that  of  attracting 
attention  to  a  subject  by  an  unexpected  turn  to  sat- 
isfy curiosity,  lies  the  chief  charm.  Understandest 
thou  that  ?  " 

"If  thou  comest  to  me  again  with  thy  ex-cathe- 
drd  tone,  I  shall  run  right  away  from  thee,"  replied 
Philippina;  "but  as  a  proof  that  I  understand  thee, 
I  give  thee  liberty  to  make  as  many  epigrams  on  me 
as  thou  wilt,  nay,  I  shall  even  thank  thee  for  them, 
for  I  should  be  glad  to  see  myself  once  in  this  glass. 
But  I  cannot  after  all  exactly  imagine  to  myself  how 
one  makes  such  a  poem,"  she  concluded,  archly. 

"Then  I  can  bring  you  the  best  example  from 
last  Sunday,"  answered  Ephraim.  "  I  look  out  of 
ray  window  in  the  morning,  it  is  raining  frightfully, 
the  bell  is  just  tolling  for  church;  just  then  I  observe 
my  neighbor's  little  daughter  up  at  the  window  there 
looking  out  at  the  heavens,  and  then  twitching  again 


THE  OLD  BACHELOR.  403 

at  her  handsome  summer  dress;  I  thoncjht  9i  f^  con- 
versation with  my  sister  Violet,  avIio  luaBy- yoars 
ago  had  described  so  enthusiastically  the  joys  of  a 
Christian  woman  on  her  way  to  church,  but  all  at 
once  the  demon  of  fun  nudged  me,  and  transporting 
myself  into  my  neighbor's  daughter's  frame  of  mind, 
I  composed: 

"THE  PIOUS  MAIDEN. 

**If  God  would  grant  good  weather,  so 
That  a  poor  girl  to  church  might  go ! 
One  lives  worse  off  here  than  a  heathen, — 
Me  in  my  new  dress  here,  how  can  the  people  see,  then?  " 

Philippina  seemed  not  much  exhilarated  by  this 
poem,  for  she  observed: 

"  So  it  often  is  with  me,  I  love  to  transport  myself 
into  the  people's  ways  of  thinking  and  acting. 
When  I  walk  along  the  street  I  always  long  to  know 
what  all  the  people  are  thinking  of,  who  split  wood, 
carry  wares,  take  drives;  there  perhaps  is  one  going 
a-courting,  and  beside  him  another  going  to  get  a 
divorce;  here  one  going  about  doing  good  and  there 
another  with  thoughts  of  murder;  for  the  most  part, 
especially  on  Sundays,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  they  all 
wanted  to  sneeze  and  could  not;  dost  thou  under- 
stand ?  there  is  such  a  prickling  and  tickling  all  over 
the  face,  and  one  is  after  all  not  quite  comfortable. 
But  what  does  the  world  concern  me?"  continued 
Philippina,  whirling  round,  as  if  she  would  turn  her 
thoughts  round  with  her  body.  "  The  sorrowing 
Werther  gets  no  hold  of  me,  my  Minna  von  Barn- 
helm  says  the  cleverest  word:  What  can  the  Creator 


404  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

look  on  with  more  pleasure  than  a  happy  creature  ! — ■ 
That  is  more  agreeable  to  me  than  all  prayer-books 
with  silver  clasps.  I  proposed  to  thy  sister-in-law 
Rosa  to  have  these  words  inscribed  with  golden  let- 
ters upon  her  new  ball-room." 

His  intercourse  with  Philippina  was  always  ani- 
mating to  Ephraim;  into  his  serious  thoughts  as  well 
as  into  the  craziest  and  most  romantic  matter  that 
he  might  bring  forward,  she  always  entered  good- 
naturedly,  but  soon  let  both  drop  again;  her  gay 
view  of  life,  as  well  as  the  manifold  speeches  of 
politeness  that  he  addressed  to  her,  gave  him  occa- 
sion for  many  little  poems,  and  he  was  happy  when 
he  had  transformed  her  name  Philippina  into  the 
classic  Phillis,  which  fitted  better  his  kind  of  verse. 

"Ah,  I  have  actually  nothing  poetical  in  my 
whole  environment,"  said  Philippina,  on  one  occa- 
sion, "  unless  it  be  my  cat.  Men  and  poets  particu- 
larly do  a  crying — I  may  say  a  caterwauling — wrong 
by  these  creatures;  they  call  them  false  and  thieving, 
that  is  their  nature;  a  cat  remains  forever  wild  and 
can  never  be  tamed." 

Ephraim  went  away  smiling,  and  the  next  day  he 
brought  Philippina  the  following  poem: 

"TO  PHILLIS,  ON  HER  CAT. 

*'Thy  pussy,  Phillis,  shall  I  sing? 
Thalia,  touch  and  tune  my  string ! 
Wise  is  this  cat,  her  form  is  fair, 
And  white  as  Phillis's  skin  her  hair ; 
She  plays,  caresses,  kisses,  strokes. 
Sometimes  demurely  mischief  cloaks. 
O  be  not  wroth !   is  not  this,  too, 
The  way  the  pretty  maidens  do?" 


THE  OLD  BACHELOR,  405 

With  Violet,  his  sister  Rosa  and  Philippina,  he 
spent  alternately  most  of  his  leisure  time;  he  gladly 
avoided  intercourse  with  men,  and  found  almost  his 
only  satisfaction  here  among  the  women  who  hu- 
mored his  excitability;  the  crown  riglit  of  geniality, 
which  in  earlier  youth  he  had  once  enjoyed,  he 
sought  again  to  appropriate  to  himself;  he  knew  not 
that  they  allowed  him  so  much,  not  in  deference  to 
his  superiority,  but  in  deference  to  his  weakness. 
Next  to  the  women  he  loved  best  the  society  of 
strangers;  in  such  flying  contact  and  mere  meetings 
of  pleasure  no  one  had  either  the  right  or  the  oppor- 
tunity to  intrude  upon  his  inner  retreat,  and  attack 
there  his  favorite  idiosyncrasies.  Add  to  this  that 
towards  his  relatives  he  was  easily  tilled  with  mis- 
trust and  fear,  he  deliberately  invited  injuries,  and 
was  vexed  with  the  physician  who  offered  to  heal 
them.  The  latter  was  alarmed  when  Ephraim  re- 
minded him  once  of  an  expression  in  the  Talmud: 
"  If  we  Lnew  what  demons  are  continually  lurking 
around  us  in  the  air,  we  could  never  breathe  freely 
and  should  go  out  of  our  senses." 

Nathan  turned  pale  when  the  physician  com- 
municated to  him  his  fears  regarding  Ephraim. 
The  latter  seemed,  however,  merrier  than  ever;  for 
like  a  fowler,  he  took  a  special  pleasure  in  catching 
witticisms  or  other  winged  thoughts;  with  sadness, 
however,  he  observed  the  failure  of  his  memory;  in 
a  twinkling,  what  he  would  retain  had  flown  away 
and  he  could  not  overtake  it  again;  this  effort  to 
hold  fast  every  salient  point  made  by  others  or  him- 


406  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

self  murdered  his  very  sleep.  When  he  lay  in  bed, 
and  as  his  eyes  closed,  a  magic  lid  began  to  spread 
itself  gradually  over  the  eye  of  consciousness,  sud- 
denly a  startling  thought  would  spring  up  within 
him,  he  would  fain  hold  it  fast,  without  disturbing 
his  rest;  he  would  impress  it  strongly  on  his  mind, 
80  as  never  to  forget  it,  but  into  the  sweet  forgetf ul- 
ness  of  sleep  this  thought  had  been  spell-bound  like 
a  rest-scaring  spectre;  he  would  wake  up  exhausted, 
seek  the  idea,  and  find  nothing  but  a  commonplace, 
a  dry  stalk,  incapable  of  putting  forth  a  blossom. 

Another  morning  he  woke,  and  it  was  to  him  as  if 
a  golden,  luminous  thought  had  rayed  across  through 
his  dream-life;  he  tore  all  the  memories  which  had 
been  lulled  into  sweet  slumber  from  their  pillows; 
with  clouded  looks  they  blinked  at  him,  but  he 
thrust  them  from  him;  he  sought  that  luminous 
thought,  but  it  had  vanished;  feverish  and  dizzy  he 
rose,  and  all  day  long  was  disturbed  and  irritated. 
As  the  loto-player  sits  up  in  the  morning  in  her  hag- 
gard bed,  rubs  her  eyes,  sends  her  thoughts  to  and 
fro,  and  groans  and  is  almost  distracted,  she  remem- 
bers perfectly  that  she  dreamed  her  lucky  numbers, 
but  the  ciphers  !  the  ciphers  !  who  shall  find  them  ? 
At  last  she  finds  this  and  that  one,  but  she  does  not 
quite  believe  that  these  are  the  ones  she  dreamed; 
no,  certainly  not,  and  yet,  yet,  she  puts  them  down 
— so,  too,  did  Ephraim  cajole  himself  with  some 
thought  or  other  that  shot  up  through  the  feverish 
sti-ain  of  his  memory. 

Ephraim  often  stood  for  hours  before  the  looking- 


THE  OLD  BACHELOR.  407 

glass  and  stared  at  his  image.  OncCj  when  Philip- 
pina  called  him  to  account  for  this,  he  said:  "Only 
in  this  way,  by  contemplating  no  strange  object 
whatever,  but  only  my  own  likeness,  which  coincides 
with  my  vision  of  it,  only  so  can  I  most  easily  draw 
myself  away  from  all  worldly  objects,  and  become 
absorbed  in  the  most  abstract  and  general  existence; 
thou  canst  hardly  imagine  what  a  height  of  enjoy- 
ment it  is,  no  longer  to  be  this  person,  Ephraim,  but 
only,  in  general,  to  be." 

"Thou  art  right,  I  cannot  imagine  it,  nor  will  I; 
I  am  content  to  be  in  my  skin,  and  wait  calmly  till  I 
shall  one  day  as  a  spirit  travel  round  through  the 
universe ;  but  I,  too,  am  a  friend  of  the  looking-glass ; 
I  think  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  be  a  whole 
day  long  in  a  room  in  which  there  was  no  mirror; 
not  from  vanity,  but  I  should  feel  the  want  of  some- 
thing; a  room  without  a  looking-glass  is  blind.  The 
first  act  of  furnishing  a  room  is  to  hang  up  a  look- 
ing-glass, thereby  it  becomes  immediately  habitable; 
one  thinks:  There  were,  or  are,  human  faces  which 
have  peered  at  themselves  therein.  The  Jewish 
mourning  custom  has  always  been  most  touching  to 
me,  of  hanging  in  the  house  of  mourning  the  look- 
ing-glasses face  to  the  wall;  dost  thou  know  why  no 
looking-glasses  hang  in  churches  ancl  synagogues?" 

Now  at  length  Ephraim  began  to  follow  with 
friendly  acquiescence  the  fitful  leaps  of  Philippina's 
mind;  she  told  him  that  every  time  she  came  home 
from  a  party,  she  almost  involuntarily  looked  a  long 
time   into   the   glass   without   changing   her  dress; 


408  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

"for,"  said  slie,  "one  must  after  all  know  once  more 
how  one  has  appeared  to  the  people;  formerly,  in  my 
slender  days  I  could  always  say  to  myself  I  was  surely 
very  stylish,  but  now  I  have  already  advanced  to  the 
time  of  sham-fighting.*  I  always  fancy  the  glass  must 
have  threads  in  it,  because  little  wrinkles  show  them- 
selves in  my  face ;  I  cannot  at  all  get  it  into  my  head 
that  one  must  grow  old.  When  we  pass  from  sum- 
mer into  autumn  and  then  into  winter,  one  will  not 
believe,  it  shall  not  be,  that  the  bright,  green  days  are 
gone  by,  until  one  wakes  up  some  morning,  and  the 
hoar-frost  is  there  and  the  leaves  are  yellow,  and  then 
one  says:  ah,  such  a  fresh  autumn  has  its  beauty, 
too!  And  when  it  snows,  the  talk  is:  I  am  very 
fond  of  winter, — and  that,  too,  is  true.  One  must 
simply  not  fight  against  that  which,  once  for  all,  is 
not  to  be  changed;  then  all  is  right  and  good." 

Ephraim  saw  how  unjust  it  would  be  to  drag  this 
innocent  creature  into  the  hurly-burly  of  his  inner 
speculations;  he  therefore  concealed  his  second  in- 
tention in  that  self -absorption  into  general  being,  for 
it  made  even  himself  dizzy  to  have  reached  the 
height  of  such  a  design.  By  the  contemplation  of 
his  external  appearance  he  would  gain  a  position  out- 
side of  and  above  himself,  and  then,  and  only  then, 
did  he  deem  that  he  could  be  free,  and  should  be 
able  to  lift  himself  above  his  temporary  affliction, 
when  he  had  really  and  truly  laid  hold  of  his  second 
self  as  an  outward  object,  so  that  he  could  look  upon 
himself  as  a  stranger;  therefore  it  was  tliat  he  con- 

*  Literally,  "fighting  before  a  looking-glass." 


THE  OLD  BACHELOR.  409 

templated  for  hours  togetlier  these  features,  these 
eyes,  this  forehead,  and  placed  himself  over  against 
his  other  self  which  contemplated  all  this.  Once  he 
got  so  far  as  even  to  laugh  at  this  whole  apparition 
and  to  gnash  his  teeth  at  it;  suddenly  he  felt  him- 
self grasped  as  from  behind  with  demonic  power, 
and  fell  swooning  on  the  floor. 

Never  could  Ephraim  look  into  the  glass  any  more 
without  a  shudder. 

In  this  life,  full  of  feverish  convulsions  and  mighty 
inner  dismemberment,  there  was  still,  however,  no 
want  of  lucid  points,  at  which  Ephraim  was  conscious 
of  the  harmonious  consonance  of  all  his  powers  of 
life,  spiritual  as  well  as  bodily;  and  this  was  the 
clear  and  immediate  joy  of  being,  when,  with  his 
arms  folded  across  his  breast,  he  held  nothing  but 
himself,  when  he  leaned  on  no  other  breast,  on  no 
event,  no  idea  and  no  wish.  Ephraim  rejoiced  over 
his  joy,  and  at  such  moments  exhorted  himself  in  his 
inner  being  still  to  enjoy  life;  this  joy  over  the  con- 
sciousness of  youthful  sensibility  was  then  the  prop- 
er enjoyment  itself  also,  and  the  exaltation,  for  sel- 
dom did  he  succeed  in  actualizing  what  he  recog- 
nized and  wished  in  the  spirit. 

"It  is  my  fortune  and  my  misfortune,"  he  once 
said  to  Philippina,  "  not  to  groAV  old.  Generally  age 
has  its  coming-in  of  twiliglit,  as  childhood  has  its 
twilight  of  departure;  with  me  it  is  not  so;  I  am,  to 
my  great  discomfort,  still  evermore  under  youthful 
excitement.  O,  how  sweet  is  the  evening  twilight 
of  life,  which  permits  us  no  longer  to   apprehend 


410  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

things  in  definite  outline,  and  thus  enables  us  to  go 
to  sleep,  to  live  with  a  child's  indifference.  But  I 
will  die  young." 

lu  such  a  mood  he  wrote  once  the  poem: 

"MY  BIRTHDAY. 

"Those  bright  goddesses,  the  Hours, 
Bring  this  morn  my  fiftieth  birthday. 
And  who  knows  if  e'er  the  Parcse 
Let  another  greet  my  eyes. 
Now  then,  let  me  live  life  swiftly, 
Ere  this  light  for  me  is  quenched; 
Ere  old  age  has  plowed  deep  furrows 
In  my  brow,  and  snowy-white 
Lilies  o'er  my  crown  has  scattered. 
Quickly  let  me  scare  away 
Every  grief  that  gnaws  my  heart-strings; 
Anxious  cares  for  coming  time 
To  the  winds  a  prey  deliver, 
And  devote  myself  to  joy.* 
Bring  me,  boy,  fresh-blooming  roses !  "  etc. 

This  Horatian  bacchanal  style  with  its  out-worn 
forms  could  never  exert  on  the  poet  the  true  liberat- 
ing power  of  poesy;  never  had  Ephraim  crowned 
with  roses  his  head,  which  a  neatly  braided  queue 
adorned,  and  if  he  drank  a  goblet  of  wine  his  senses 
reeled;  but  this  was  the  period  in  which  the  wine- 
loving  Gleira,  "sober,  of  drunkenness  sang."  In  the 
essential  features  those  expressions  and  exhortations 
of  Ephraira's  might  be  true,  only  as  he  could  not  set 

*  "Then  top  and  main-top  crowd  the  sail, 
Fling  care  o'er-side. 
And  large  before  enjoyment's  gale 
Let's  talc  the  tide. "— ^wr^w. 


THE  OLD  BACHELOR.  411 

them  with  all  the  Olympian  appurtenances  to  poetry, 
this  latter  remained  forever  separated  from  his  life; 
he  could  not  represent  and  poetically  transfigure  the 
immediate  and  original  elements  of  his  life;  this 
whole  classicizing  style  of  artificial  poetry  was  daily 
convicted  by  life  of  falsehood. 

Often,  therefore,  did  Ephraim  sing  his  "Farewell 
to  the  Muses,  or  Swan-Song : " 

**My  locks  are  wasting, 
Hoar  age  creeps  on; 
My  years  are  hasting. 
Ten  lustrums  gone. 

"The  fates  have  bereft  me, 
Lone  is  my  breast; 
The  Muses  have  left  me, 
And  wit  and  jest. 

**  Muses !  ye  brought  me 
Sorrow  and  grief; 
Parting  has  wrought  me 
Endless  relief." 

It  has,  however,  been  long  since  well  known  how 
these  bills  of  divorce  from  the  Poet  to  the  Muses 
were  meant.  Unfaithfulness  to  such  an  expressed 
purpose  is  so  sweet  and  alluring,  and  can  so  easily 
make  itself  as  valid  as  fidelity  itself,  that  one  often 
and  willingly  returns  with  a  penitent  smile. 


27.— HITHER  AND  THITHER. 

THE  comj^laisance  and  polite  attention  of  Eph- 
raim  to  strangers  and  those  who  came  recom- 
mended to  him  had  become,  in  the  Breslau  congrega- 
tion, almost  proverbial;  the  monotony  of  his  com- 
monplace life  was  suddenly  refreshed  as  with  a 
breath  of  wind  by  the  arrival  of  a  stranger;  a 
stranger's  way  of  looking  at  things  gave  what  was 
familiar  a  new  coloring;  almost  the  only  pleasure  he 
now  had  left  him  consisted  in  seeing  others  happy. 
In  the  precisely-bounded  circle  of  family  life,  his  love 
had  not  found  satisfaction;  he  now  extended  its 
limits  as  far  as  he  could. 

He  had  in  this  love  for  strangers  another  special 
interest;  not  that  he  would  fain  make  a  display  of 
his  knowledge  of  many  cities  and  countries,  but  he 
always  listened  attentively  in  any  direction  from 
which  he  raiglit  catch  the  voice  of  the  age  in  its 
most  immediate  expression;  nothing  was  too  small 
for  liim  to  count  worthy  his  attention,  and  the 
people  loved  his  company  and  conversation  and 
I)raised  his  depth  of  mind,  for  never  are  men  more 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  413 

grateful  than  when  one  gives  them  opportunity  to 
bring  their  views  and  experiences  to  the  right  man 
and  markjct,  and  thereby  enables  them  to  enjoy  the 
pleasure  and  triumph  of  playing  the  teacher. 

Dull  and  confused  as  Ej^hraim's  life  was  when  he 
entangled  himself  in  his  sophistries  and  self-tormeut- 
ings,  even  in  the  same  degree  was  it  right  and  clear 
w^hen  he  went  out  of  himself,  attached  himself  to 
the  people  around  him  and  to  general  interests,  and 
yet  on  the  other  hand  he  felt  the  feebleness  and  pov- 
erty of  it  all. 

"  Dost  thou  know  who  is  the  poorest  mortal  ?  "  he 
said  once  to  Philippina.  "He  who  cannot  bear  to 
be  alone,  who  cannot  do  without  others,  who  is  una- 
ble to  conquer  in  solitude  a  melancholy  thinking, 
and  must  seek  diversion  and  dissipation." 

"  No,  thou  art  too  good,  thou  need'st  association, 
thou  walkest  much  straighter  and  more  surely  when 
thou  goest  arm-in-arm  with  some  one." 

"  Call  it  not  goodness,  it  is  weakness  and  misfort- 
une," said  Ephraim,  deprecatingly,  "to  expect  and 
require  anything  of  the  outward  w^orld  that  shall 
answ^er  one's  most  individual  yearning  and  longing; 
that  is  the  greatest  misfortune  and  weakness  at  once. 
I  depend  upon  the  barometer  in  the  face  of  every 
human  being.     I  know  w^hence  that  comes." 

A  new-comer  engaged  Ephraim's  whole  attention. 
Full  of  good  cheer  and  good  things  Maimon  "  dark- 
ened"— nay  brightened — "his  door"  one  evening, 
laid  his  knotty  stick  on  the  table  and  gave  notice 
that  he  was  going  to  live  in  Breslau  now,  as,  in  Ber- 


414  rOET  AND  MERCHANT. 

lin,  things  had  uot  gone  according  to  his  wishes; 
Ephraim  must  give  liini  for  the  nonce  a  few  grosch- 
en,  that  he  might  wind  np  "  his  clock-works  "  again, 
as  he  called  his  body,  with  some  brandy  and  black 
bread. 

"How  stands  it  now  with  your  philosophy?"  ask- 
ed Ephraim,  and  Maimon  responded: 

"  Where  my  iirst  box  on  the  ear  left  it." 

"I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Nor  I  either,  but,  as  I  said,  it  sticks  just  there, 
at  my  first  box  on  the  ear.  When,  as  a  little  young- 
ster I  first  read  the  Chumesh  [Bible]  to  my  father, 
there  I  read:  'In  the  beginning  God  created  the 
heavens  and  the  earth  ; '-  I  asked :  Who  created 
God  ?  Then  my  father  gave  me  a  smart  box  on  the 
ear,  and  that  is  up  to  now  the  only  answer  that  I 
have  got  to  my  question;  no  philosophy  has  given 
me  any  other." 

Maimon  was  one  of  the  most  peculiar  apparitions 
that  presented  themselves  in  the  first  breaking  forth 
of  Judaism  from  its  chrysalis  state.  Sprung  from 
the  closest  cells  of  Polish  orthodoxy,  he  kept  him- 
self in  a  state  of  restless  roving  among  the  sciences 
as  among  the  cities;  his  ingenious  mind  found  itself 
attracted  by  all  systems  of  knowledge  and  held  fast 
by  none;  like  a  tamed  savage,  he  would  suddenly 
put  all  pedagogic  discipline  to  shame,  and  with  Tal 
mudistic  dialectics  cleared  at  a  bound  all  the  limits 
of  order  in  life  and  knowledge.  With  devoted  dili- 
gence Ephraim  provided  for  him,  and  soon,  through 
his  acquaintances,  secured  him  the  means  for  his 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  415 

support  and  tlie  prosecution  of  liis  studies.  Ephraini 
n;ul,  liinisclf,  now  readied  tliat  stage  wliicli  he  had 
ere  while  so  greatly  despised  and  pitied;  he  regard- 
ed his  own  life  as  a  failure,  and  found  no  longer  any 
satisfaction  in  it,  except  in  caring  for  others,  whether 
it  were  individuals  or  societies. 

Through  Mairaon  Ephraim  was  also  drawn  to  the 
tavern-life,  to  which  he  had  hitherto  remained  almost 
a  stranger.  The  German-Jews  are  distinguished 
from  the  Polish  very  much  by  their  sobriety;  Mai- 
mon  followed  his  national  bent  in  unrestrained  geni- 
ality. Here,  too,  he  loved  best  to  talk  of  his  highest 
interest,  the  enlightenment  of  his  fellow-believers. 

"The  mathematics  alone  can  plane  down  these 
crooked  heads,"  asserted  Maimon;  "hence  I  worked- 
over  the  Latin  mathematics  of  Wolf  in  the  Rabbinic 
language;  but  the  edition  is  too  costly,  and  the  few 
friends  of  the  liberal  cause  have  already  given 
enough." 

Ephraim  needed  only  a  fresh  breath  to  kindle  the 
glow  within  him  to  a  blaze;  henceforth  his  poetiz- 
ing and  all  his  pursuits  were  devoted  to  the  great 
work  of  enlightenment.  He  once  spoke  with  Mai- 
raon to  the  point,  that  the  limitations  of  Pietism 
were  the  highest  sin  against  God  and  humanity,  for 
"every  withdrawal  of  a  pleasure  of  life  and  of  an 
enjoyment  was  the  highest  sin  against  the  end  of 
creation  and  of  existence." 

"A  Polish  nobleman  once  came  to  Warsaw," 
Maimon  related,  in  his  singularly  desultory  parabolic 
way;  "the  nobleman  having  nothing  better  to  do, 


416  POE T  AND  MER CHA NT. 

sets  himself  to  walking  up  and  down  the  streets. 
lie  sees  on  all  hands  provisions  exposed  for  sale,  he 
is  hungry,  thrusts  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  but 
finds  all  bare  and  desolate.  Now  he  begins  to  vent 
abuse  upon  the  capital:  co  to  so  mjasto  nieniam  saco 
piro(/i  Kupicz!  (What  sort  of  a  city  is  this,  in  the 
devil's  name,  where  one  has  not  even  the  wherewith 
to  buy  a  roll !)  just  the  way  the  pious  Rabbins  do." 

"I  don't  understand  how  you  apply  that  to  the 
case  in  hand." 

"  The  application  lies  close  at  hand,"  replied  Mai- 
mon.  "When  people  have  no  coin  of  original 
thought  in  their  heads,  they  let  fly  abuse  at  Jeru- 
salem and  Babylon. — But  I  tell  you,  the  whole  his- 
tory of  Judaism  and  all  that  has  come  out  of  it,  lies 
in  a  single  legend  of  the  Talmud.  Only  two  men  of 
tlie  present  day  understand  it,  and  I  am  one  of 
them." 

"And  what  does  the  legend  say?" 

"  The  Jews,  once  on  a  time,  after  the  return  from 
Babylon,  caught  the  demon  Jezer-Hara  (sensual  im- 
pulse) and  put  one  of  his  eyes  out,  and  I  say  that 
means  since  that  they  had  no  sense  for  beauty 
and  pleasure,  for  art  generally.  But  the  Talmud 
goes  on  to  relate:  but  they  would  fain  have  put  out 
the  demon's  other  eye  also,  and  then  no  hen  would 
any  longer  have  laid  a  single  egg.  Will  you  be  the 
third  that  has  comprehended  this  legend?" 

Epliraim  nodded  affirmatively,  and  recognized 
with  much  satisfaction  how  the  end  of  his  life  was 
after  all  coming  round  again  toward  its  point  of  de- 


HTTHER  A.VD  T/riTI/ER.  417 

parture.  lie  had  worked  his  way  out  of  his  Jewish 
limitations,  then  had  staked  all  upon  a  personal,  ay, 
one  might  even  say,  egoistic  happiness;  when  this 
had  been  denied  him  he  had  attempted  to  associate 
himself  with  the  general  movement  of  the  world. 
He  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  circle  of  spirits 
full  of  youthful  aspiration,  who  felt  themselves 
blessed  by  every  new  piece  of  knowledge  which  they 
made  their  own,  and  exalted  by  every  principle  of 
reason  which  they  diffused  among  their  Jewish  fel- 
low-believers. The  impulse  given  by  Mendelssohn 
had  created  in  the  provincial  towns  a  zeal  for  en- 
lightenment and  culture,  which  maintained  itself  in 
lively  activity  long  after  they  had  in  the  chief  cities 
begun  to  fall  away.  The  Hebrew  magazine  called 
*^The  Gatherer,"  which  appeared  frequently,  had  in 
Breslau  its  most  active  collaborators;  among  whom 
Joel  Lowe  and  Bense,  the  author  of  a  commentary 
to  Rabbi  Saadia  Gaon's  "Faith  and  Knowledge," 
stand  especially  prominent.  A  circle  of  young  men 
had  been  formed  full  of  noble  aspirations,  who  tried 
their  hand  at  Hebrew  poems  and  treatises;  and  a 
new  paper  of  Mendelssohn  was  like  a  new  revelation, 
and  was  read  and  expounded  in  full  meeting. 

More  and  more  did  his  past  life  seem  to  Ephraim 
like  a  dream.  Where  was  the  distressing  aberration, 
where  all  the  terrifying  spectres?  He  had  awaked 
and  was  once  more  at  home. 

That  reflective  point  of  view  after  which  he  had 
so  often  striven,  where  joy  and  sorrow  melt  indis- 
linguishably  into  each  other,  he  had  now  reached; 
27 


418  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

he  recognized  that  the  future  redeems  all  the  prom- 
issory notes  of  the  past  by  fixing  new  limits;  come 
what  might,  he  felt  confident  he  could  master  it,  for 
he  knew  to-day  how  he  should  review  to-day  and 
smile  at  it  a  year  hence. 

Maimon  recounted  with  much  joviality  incidents 
of  his  youthful  days;  how,  according  to  the  Polish 
custom,  he  was  married  as  early  as  his  eleventh  year, 
and  often  got  cudgelings   from  his  mother-in-law; 
the  most  delicious  anecdotes  were  slipped  in  by  the 
way,  and  there  was  no  end  of  laughter.     One  day, 
however,  Maimou  was  surprised  by  the  arrival  of 
his  wife  and  son.     She  had  come  to  get  a  divorce 
from  her  run-away  husband.     This  reminded  Eph- 
raim  of  his  old  teacher.  Rabbi   Chananel,   and  he 
heard  now  of  his  recent  horrible  death.     Maimon  had 
known  the  Rabbi  intimately,  and  now  communicated 
the  following  account  of  his  falling  away  from  him- 
self and  the  world :    Tossed  to  and  fro  between  en- 
lightened  conviction    and   hypocritical    sanctimoni- 
ousness, Rabbi  Chananel  lapsed   now  into  one  ex- 
treme and  now  into  the  other.     With  the  thought 
of  fleeing  from  manifest  death   and  corruption  he 
betook  himself  into  the  stir  of  fresh  life;  he  would 
become  a  convert  to  the  dominant  church,  since  in- 
deed it  w^ere  all  one   whether   he   played  here   or 
there  his  Jesuitical  game  with  forms  which  one  could 
no  longer  honor  with  faith  or  conviction;  his  bosom 
heaved;  there  gleamed  from  his  eye  a  transfiguring 
fire;  yearningly   he  stretched   out  his   arms   to  the 
millions  of  liuman  beinffs  to  whom  he  would  hence- 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  419 

forth  consecrate  the  might  and  force  of  his  spirit; 
he  felt  himself  borne  on  by  the  stream  of  the  world, 
living  and  giving  life,  but  soon  he  sank  back  again 
into  his  withered  existence;  he  saw  himself  the  cap- 
tive of  those  who  venerated  him  as  a  saint,  and  he 
became  again  a  bitter  zealot  and  persecutor  of  those 
who  deviated  a  hair's  breadth  from  the  forms  of 
the  faith;  he  often  fasted  for  weeks  together  and 
mourned  and  prayed  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins, 
and  yet  his  orthodoxy  was  doubted  by  many  in  the 
congregation,  for  he  almost  always  during  prayer  in 
the  synagogue  stood  with  closed  lips,  looking  on 
dreamily,  or  hastily  closed  his  eyes  tight  and  threw 
his  head  this  way  and  that  as  if  he  w^ould  scare  away 
flies.  The  people  said  he  was  possessed  with  a 
demon,  and  so  in  fact  he  was.  The  thought  which 
in  a  Voltairish  wantonness  he  had  once  thrown  out 
in  the  smoking-club  at  Berlin  was  alive,  and  in  his 
very  self.  He  knew  no  longer  what  was  fantasy 
and  what  reality.  At  first  Avith  a  strange  smile,  but 
then  with  wild  rage,  he  refused  all  food  and  drink 
that  was  offered  him,  and  when  at  last  nourishment 
was  forced  upon  him  it  was  too  late.  His  last  cry 
was  the  tearful  entreaty :  "  Let  me  live  !  Help  me  to 
live  ! " 

Ephraim  heard  the  account  of  Eabbi  Chananers 
end  with  profound  sadness,  and  it  became  more  and 
more  singular  to  him  that  all  old  life  one  day  awakes 
and  sounds  its  last  knell. 

Maimon  applied  to  the  life  and  end  of  the  Rabbi 
the  significance  of  a  Jewish  legend  which  forbids 


420  PORT  AND  MERC  HA  NT. 

the  creating  of  images  in  tlie  fancy;  for  in  the  hour 
of  death  the  phantoms  of  the  imagination  come  as 
demons,  hang  upon  the  spirit  which  would  fain 
mount  upward,  pluck  at  it  and  cry:  "Thou  gavest 
us  a  body;  give  us  now  a  living  soul."  Whoso  lives 
out  of  unity  with  himself,  thinks  out  one  thing  and 
acts  out  another,  to  him  the  creatures  of  his  imagina- 
tion become  demons,  he  falls  their  victim,  they  rob 
him  of  his  vital  existence. 

Ephraim  gazed  shudderingly  into  an  undreamed- 
of abyss. 

Maimon  had,  according  to  the  Jewish  canonical 
law,  as  a  vagabond,  been  compelled  to  a  divorce; 
he  determined,  soon  after  it,  to  leave  Breslau;  on  the 
fast-day  of  the  Destruction  of  Jerusalem  he  cele- 
brated his  departure  with  Ephraim  at  the  inn  of 
"  The  Golden  Wheel,"  and,  as  was  his  wont,  he  read 
from  his  favorite  book,  which  he  always  carried 
about  with  him,  Butler's  "  Hudibras,"  pithy  passages, 
and  threw  in  all  sorts  of  enlivening  expositions  as  he 
went  along.  This  made  a  great  noise  through  the 
whole  community.  The  Rabbin  Isaac  Joseph  Fran- 
kel,  however,  a  just  and  tolerant  man,  would  not  take 
any  notice  of  it.  The  congregation  was  ruled,  how- 
ever, by  the  stout  and  ugly  better-(?)half  of  the 
Ruler  llirsch  Levi;  zealotism  and  female  ambition 
spurred  her  on  to  the  highest  activity,  and  she 
brought  it  about  at  last  by  all  sorts  of  intrigues, 
that  Ephraim  should  be  summoned  before  a  Jewish 
ecclesiastical  court  for  violation  of  the  fast-day. 

Ephraim's  friends  advised  him  to  pay  no  attention 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  421 

to  such  a  summons,  for  the  time  had  gone  by  in 
which  any  one  needed  to  fear  tlie  tliunders  of  liie- 
rarchical  excommunication;  Frederick  II,  a  foe  to  all 
"priestly  government,"  had  intimidated  even  the 
Jewish  rabbins.  But  Ephraim  rejoiced  in  this  op- 
portunity, for  he  would  fain  for  once  lay  hold  on 
this  skeleton  of  orthodoxy  and  smash  it  with  the 
whole  weight  of  his  mind.  But  here  again  things 
had  almost  gpne  with  him  as  in  the  presence  of  the 
judge  at  his  arrest,  for  Ephraim  had  an  insuperable 
shrinking  from  standing  forth  boldly  and  independ- 
ently in  the  sight  of  many,  and  if  he  attempted  it, 
he  seldom  accomplished  his  purpose;  in  his  monastic 
thinking  and  speculation  he  had  already  so  many 
stages  of  the  discussion  beneath  him,  he  stood  al- 
ready on  such  a  position  that  he  was  always  inclined 
to  presuppose  this  in  regard  to  others,  and  seldom 
possessed  the  skill  to  lead  those  standing  below  him 
up  to  his  point. 

With  a  blank  stare  he  stood  for  a  while  before  the 
judges  and  heard  their  questions;  then  trembling 
with  rage,  he  cried:  "Shut  tight  the  doors  and  win- 
dows, that  no  breath  of  free  nature  may  find  its  way 
in;  spin  away  and  whirl  and  twist  spiritual  bands 
with  which  ye  may  throttle  the  free  soul;  a  light- 
ning-flash from  heaven  will  consume  the  bands  and 
you.  Go  home  and  pray;  set  free  your  slaves,  and 
be  yourselves  free." 

"  Did  you  on  the  fast-day  of  the  Destruction  of  Je- 
rusalem eat  meat  ?  "  was  the  question  propounded  by 
the  ecclesiastical  court. 


422  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Ephraira  could  not  lielp  langliing.  "  What  have 
I  to  do  with  the  dead  Jerusalem?"  he  replied;  "day 
by  day  you  are  destroying  it,  for  Jerusalem  is  every- 
where, as  it  is  written :  '  In  every  place  where  I  let 
my  name  be  mentioned,*  will  I  come  to  thee  and 
bless  thee.'"     (Ex.,  xx,  24.) 

Ephraim  had  to  leave  the  room. 

"He  is  wanting  here,"  said  one  of  those  who  sat 
in  judgment,  tapping  with  his  forefingcK  his  ow^n  wise 
forehead;  "if  he  were  not  crazy,  how  could  he  talk 
in  that  way  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  is  crazy,"  said  the  second  judge;  "and  I 
w^as  afraid  of  him;  we  have  no  need  to  punish  him; 
God  has  already  punished  him  enough  in  taking 
away  his  understanding."  The  Rabbin  availed  him- 
self of  this  happy  mood;  Ephraim  was  pronounced 
crazy,  and  acquitted;  his  whole  previous  life,  how- 
ever, w^as  subjected  to  a  severe  censorship;  the 
whole  course  of  his  life  had  been  carefully  watched, 
but  it  was  brought  in  a  distorted  and  disfigured  state 
before  his  eyes. 

With  a  sorrowing  heart  Ephraim  sat  at  home  and 
reflected  how  the  fast-day  for  the  Destruction  of  Je- 
rusalem had  now  continued  for  eighteen  centuries; 
he  sought  solace  and  illumination;  and  he  who  had 
called  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment  the  only  life, 
who  would  fain  dissect  the  words  of  existence  back 
into  their  original  letters,  contented  himself  at  last 
with  a  word,  in  assigning  to  the  rhythm  of  universal 
history  millenia  as  counting  syllables. 

*  In  King  James's  version:  "in  which  I  record  my  name." 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  423 

Eijhraim,  in  crossing  the  Jews'  place  one  day,  saw 
two  boys  who  had  fallen  out  and  were  beating  each 
other;  he  kept  off  the  one  who  was  in  the  wrong, 
when  the  father  of  tlie  boy  ran  up,  scolded  at  Eph- 
raira  and  told  him  to  keep  quiet;  he  had  been  de- 
clared crazy  by  the  Jewish  ecclesiastical  court,  and 
that  was  the  only  reason  why  he  had  not  been  put 
under  ban.  Ephraim  smiled  and  passed  on;  he 
thought  the  matter  over,  how  he  could  end  the  rest  of 
his  days  in  peace,  far  from  all  Jewish  concerns.  As 
he  came  upon  the  ring,  several  Christian  boys,  their 
catechisms  under  their  arms,  who  were  just  coming 
from  the  catechising,  threw  snow-balls  at  the  Jew 
and  laughed  at  his  anger.  If  he  had  at  that  first 
occurrence  involuntarily  thought  of  Moses  in  Egypt, 
so  would  he  now,  like  the  prophet,  gladly  have  fled 
into  the  wilderness,  that  he  might  never  more  behold 
a  human  face;  he  took  refuge  in  the  house  of  his 
sister  Violet. 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  February,  of  the  year 
1781.  As  Ephraim  entered  his  sister's  door  she  came 
to  meet  him  with  a  pale  face  and  said: 

"Ah,  God  !  Thou  art  come  to  mourn  with  me,  I 
thank  thee." 

"What  has  happened,  then?" 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  only  a  bit  of  paper,  and  a  drop  of 
ink,  that  is  the  news  of  a  death.  Hast  thou  not  read 
it,  then,  in  the  newspaper?     He  died  on  the  12th." 

"  Who  is  it,  then  ?  " 

"Come,  brother,"  answered  Violet,  and  lier  eye 
beamed  brightly,  tears  hung  in  the  lashes;  "come, 


424  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

brother,  let  me  kiss  thee,  for  thou  hast,  indeed,  his 
name.  Dost  thou  remember  how  thou  broughtest 
him  for  the  first  time  to  our  house  ?  I  remember  it 
yet  as  distinctly  as  if  it  were  to-day;  it  was  spring, 
a  Monday  afternoon,  towards  three  o'clock,  I  sat  at 
my  work-table  and  was  busy  with  a  summer  dress — 
the  secretary — " 

"So  Lessing  is  dead?"  asked  Ephraim;  Yiolet 
nodded  affirmatively. 

"I  knew  he  was  dead,"  said  she;  "the  very  night 
he  died  I  saw  him;  I  was  walking  in  Spandau  street, 
now  with  a  man,  now  alone;  on  and  on  I  walked;  all 
at  once  I  was  on  a  barren  heath — night  everywhere 
— Ignes  fatui  darting  round — when  suddenly  I  saw 
his  dead  body;  hoo  !  he  passes  his  cold  hand  over 
^  my  face."  Violet  looked  at  her  brother  with  a  rigid 
stare. 

"Alas!  thou  art  out  of  thy  senses,"  he  cried; 
"  touch  me  not,  thou  inf ectest  me,  away  !  away  ! " 
He  thrust  his  sister  from  him  and  ran  away  raving;  it 
seemed  to  him  all  the  time  as  if  the  spirit  of  madness 
were  in  chase  at  his  heels,  and  would  seize  him  as  its 
prey,  and  not  till  he  reached  Philippiua  did  he  find 
rest. 

Meanwhile  Violet  lay  at  home  sobbing  on  her 
sofa;  she  drew  her  amulet  from  her  bosom  and  kiss- 
ed it;  it  was  a  letter  of  Lessing's,  Avhich  she  had 
managed  to  get  possession  of;  to  be  sure  it  was  di- 
rected to  a  stranger,  yet  it  was,  indeed,  from  his 
hand,  that  hand  which  now  mouldered  in  the  cold 
ground. 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  425 

Here,  in  the  far  distance,  mourning  for  the  great 
dead,  was  a  soul,  which,  in  the  succession  of  poetic 
creations,  in  the  vicissitude  of  life's  events  and  con- 
flicts, he  had  certainly  long  since  forgotten;  but  this 
is  the  power  of  the  spirit  and  its  reward,  that  its  in- 
fluence is  immeasurable  and  unfathomable. 

Violet,  also,  soon  found  again  her  consolation; 
Lessing  was  no  more  dead  to  her  than  formerly,  when 
he  still  lived;  the  next  day  she  saw  him  again  in  the 
circle  of  the  poor  children  whom  she  taught  to  sew 
and  knit,  and  whose  spirit  she  labored  to  ennoble;  her 
life  flowed  on  again  in  its  calm  course. 

Ephraim  ventured,  meanwhile,  to  undertake  a 
change  respecting  himself;  he  forsook  the  Jews  and 
betook  himself  to  his  brother,  Nathan  Frederick. 

Now,  at  this  late  day  in  life,  Ephraim  made  an  ex- 
perience with  which  he  had  never  acquainted  him- 
self, or  which  he  had  always  evaded:  the  happiness 
which  may  be  found  even  in  the  business  of  a  mer- 
chant. 

"Since  I  learned  what  I  could  do,  and  by  that 
means  was  in  a  condition  to  do  it,"  Nathan  Frederick 
often  declared,  "  I  have  been  the  happiest  and  most 
contented  man  in  the  world.  The  small  business 
of  our  blessed  father  was  as  full  of  anxiety  as  it  was 
laborious.  I  suffered  long  under  it,  and  was  tor- 
mented with  all  sorts  of  misgivings.  I  was  like  a 
bird  that  hops  on  the  ground,  and  I  cannot  tell  thee 
how  happy  I  was  when  I  discovered  that  I  could  fly, 
and  that  I  can  now  do,  and  far  and  high;  and  I 
make  it  a  rule  in  life,  as  in  business:  one  must  make 


426  ■      POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

large  discount  from  the  idea  of  men  which  one  forms 
to  himself;  one  must  yearly  reckon  upon  some  bank- 
ruptcies; then  one  gives  himself  no  trouble  about 
them.  I  know  thou  boldest  the  poetic  flight  to  be  the 
highest,  but  I  tell  thee,  a  business  which  flourishes 
can  make  one  happy,  too;  and  it  is  all  the  same;  and 
so  to  see  and  feel  how  one  grows — if  thou  hadst  ever 
rightly  discerned  this  in  thyself,  thou  hadst  never 
chosen  to  be  a  poet." 

Ephraim  suppressed  every  other  emotion  and  re- 
joiced to  see  his  brother  so  filled  and  elated. 

How  sharply,  toward  the  end  of  life,  the  contrasts 
stood  out! 

It  was  spring.  Ephraim  lived  with  his  brother 
and  his  sister  Rosa  at  the  country-house ;  he  was 
walking  with  Rosa  and  Philippina  in  the  broad 
shady  avenue;  he  was  remarking  how  the  first  grass 
was  now  growing  over  Lessing's  grave.  "  The  great 
heart  is  no  more  to  be  found,"  he  concluded. 

"  I  am  sure  thou  hast  a  great  heart  too,"  said  Phil- 
ippina, as  she  took  her  cousin's  stick  out  of  his  hand, 
skipped  nimbly  round  on  the  broad  gravel  walk, 
drew  the  outlines  of  a  heart  on  the  ground,  and 
cried:  "Dost  thou  see?  That  is  a  miniature  pict- 
ure of  thy  heart;  with  twenty  times  as  many  ladies 
as  can  stand  within  this  figure  thou  hast  already 
fallen  in  love,  O,  thou  great  heart!" 

Ephraim  was  silent.  As  often  as  Rosa  and  Phil- 
ippina were  present  at  once,  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  bring  the  conversation  into  an  even  flow,  the 
cause  of  this  he  fouud  in  the  dissimilarity  of  charac- 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  427 

ter  between  tlie  two  ladies,  who,  iievertlieless,  were 
ill  such  sisterly  accord;  he  would  not  confess  to  liiiu- 
eelf  that  his  inclination  and  attentions  vibrated  to 
and  fro  between  the  two. 

A  new  incident  breathed  fresh  energy  again  into 
Ephraim's  life:  now  in  his  advanced  years  he  re- 
ceived the  poetic  confirmation  from  Father  Ramler. 
He  had  sent  two  great  quarto  volumes  full  of  epi- 
grams to  the  good  j^i'ofessor,  who  read  them  with 
diligent  care,  made  a  selection  from  them,  filed  and 
polished  it,  and  exhibited  it  in  the  "German  Mu- 
seum." 

Not  only  Ejihraim  alone,  but  a  great  portion  of 
the  creative  minds  of  the  time,  found  their  first  sat- 
isfaction and  ground  of  self-confidence  in  the  recog- 
nition of  the  Berlin  Horace.  Inasmuch  as,  both  in 
matter  and  form,  they  followed  the  rules  of  a  poetical 
catechism  drawn  from  the  free  creations  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  classics,  hence  the  inner  recognition  was 
wanting,  the  repose  of  the  inner  consciousness,  and 
one  needed  encouragement  from  without. 

The  inner  self-reliance  which  Ephraim  had  now 
gained  was  answered  by  the  outer  appreciation  and 
respect  which  were  accorded  to  him  in  the  larger 
circles  of  society;  they  pardoned  in  the  poet  what 
they  had  blamed  in  the  merchant;  they  indulged  his 
odd  nature  because  they  recognized  its  foundation, 
and  he  who  gains  fame  is  suddenly  raised  far  above 
many  trivialities  of  every-day  life.  Garve,  with 
many  other  litterateurs  and  oflicials  who  frequented 
Nathan's  house,  showed  Ephraim  a  friendly  attention. 


428  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

The  latter  was  now  more  friendly  toward  everybody, 
for  he  was  proud  of  liiuiself.  Those  people  whom 
he  had  encountered  to  his  joy  or  his  sorrow,  whose 
looks  he  had  anxiously  watched  and  for  whose 
words  he  had  anxiously  listened,  when  he  was  made 
glad  by  every  little  recognition, — they  were  now  his 
world  no  longer.  What  were  these  two  or  three  per- 
sons ?  His  name  and  his  thoughts  went  now  through 
the  wide  world  by  thousands  and  thousands.  He 
once  expressed  his  whole  state  of  mind  and  the  char- 
acteristic change  of  his  way  of  thinking,  when  he 
said  to  Fiilleborn  and  Garve: 

"  Well,  there  is  something  of  me  in  the  world  now 
of  which  I  can  be  modest." 

Nathan  was  especially  gratified  that  Ephraim 
seemed  now  to  have  come  out  from  his  inward 
moping,  and  he  once  deeply  moved  his  brother's 
heart  by  sa3dng: 

"The  reason  why  Judaism  is  so  heavy  a  burden 
is  that  it  keeps  one  in  a  constant  antagonism  to  the 
world.  Thou  wilt  always  keep  thy  peculiar  charac- 
ter, but  this  will  not  do.  If  a  prince  passes  by,  and 
three  hundred  men  doff  their  hats,  I  am  not  going 
to  be  the  fool  to  be  the  only  one  covered.  I  live 
with  the  world  as  it  is,  and  not  with  that  world 
which  it  possibly  might  be.  To  be  angry  Avith  the 
world  and  growl  at  it — whom  does  one  hurt  by  that? 
Himself,  himself  alone;  the  rest  are  not  a  bit  the 
wiser  for  it  that  one  wanders  round  all  day  long  in 
disgust.  From  very  selfishness  I  am  on  peaceable 
and  friendly  terms  with  every  one,  and  so  he  must 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  429 

be  the  same  with  me,  and  I  have  pleasure  instead  of 
torment." 

Ephraim  sighed  heavily  and  nodded  assent.  Na- 
than went  on  triumphantly: 

"  Last  Sunday  our  parson  at  the  Elizabeth  preach- 
ed at  large  and  at  length  on  the  text:  *  If  thine  eye 
offend  thee,  pluck  it  out.'  I  tell  thee,  they  don't  un- 
derstand the  New  Testament  rightly;  a  Jew  is  more 
readily  at  home  there.  What  does  the  saying  mean 
except  simply:  If  anything  comes  in  thy  way  in  the 
world  which  annoys  thee,  if  thou  seest  anything  that 
vexes  thee,  ask  thyself  first  whether  the  fault  is  not 
in  thee;  have  the  courage  to  attack  thyself  first;  tear 
out  thine  own  irritable  eye;  if  thou  canst  not  do 
that,  well  then,  be  content  with  the  world!  Is  that 
the  alphabet  of  common  sense  ?  " 

With  an  ambiguous  smile,  Ephraim  grasped  his 
brother's  hand. 

He  now  moved  freely  and  unconstrainedly  in 
"Christian  society,"  but  neither  in  word  nor  in 
thought  could  he  forget  this  last  designation;  he  had 
lived  too  long  outside  of  this  circle;  the  roots  of  his 
thinking  struck  into  another  region ;  they  w^ere  too 
firm  and  gnarly  to  be  capable  of  transplanting  into 
new  soil;  he  never  forgot  that  he  was  a  Jew.  Often 
did  he  blame  himself  for  his  narrowness,  for  not  feel- 
ing himself  at  home  here,  but  he  could  not  overcome 
the  consciousness  that  he  was  here  partaking  only 
the  allowance-bread  of  society,  that  he  was  not  per- 
mitted to  help  himself,  but  must  always  wait  for 
what  was  handed  him. 


430  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

To  him  who  is  not  accustomed  to  society,  many  a 
usage  is  strange  and  startling,  which  to  others  ap- 
pears natural  and  unquestionable.  Ephraim  was 
once  staring  at  a  stately  young  officer,  when  Philip- 
pina  came  up  to  him  and  asked  him  what  he  was 
thinking  of.  lie  drew  her  aside  and  said  to  her  in  a 
subdued  tone: 

"See  that  young  officer  there;  how  pleasantly 
he  smiles;  perhaps  he  is  just  saying  some  polite 
thing,  and  rests  his  whole  body  the  while  on  his 
sword.  How  is  it  possible  that  one  should  carry  a 
deadly  weapon  with  him  into  gay  society?  Is  it 
then  an  ornament  to  man  to  be  always  ready  and 
have  his  instrument  at  hand  to  kill  his  fellow-man? 
Ought  he  not  to  make  people  forget  that,  here  at 
least  ?  Is  cutting  peoples  throats  the  way  to  honor  ? 
Mendelssohn  once  said:  'Ah,  if  these  officers  knew 
what  is  stirring  in  my  brain,  they  would  draw  their 
swords  and  split  my  skull  open.  Pray,  don't  say  a 
word  about  it.' " 

Philippina  sought  to  pacify  him,  but  Ephraim  could 
never  pass  by  an  officer  wdthout  shrinking  into  him- 
self; and  if  he  spoke  with  an  armed  man,  his  glance 
was  uneasy  and  always  went  back  and  fixed  itself 
upon  the  weapon. 

Not  only  as  a  Jew,  far  more  as  a  man,  Ephraim 
felt  himself  a  stranger  in  society.  Soon  was  he  to 
learn  that  society  also  had  not  forgotten  that  he  was 
a  Jew.  On  one  occasion  a  larger  party  than  usual 
had  just  sat  down  to  supper,  when  Ephraim  found 
under  his  serviette  a  paper  on  which  was  written  the 
stanza: 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  43 1 

**  Best  and  dearest  Kuh ! 
Tell  us  why,  pray  do ! 
Thou  dost  with  the  Father  stay; 
Wilt  not  greet  the  Son  some  day  ?  " 

Ephraim  read  the  verse  out  loud;  a  painful  silence 
followed;  Ephraim's  eyes  rolled  furiously;  he  asked 
for  the  poetaster;  but  presently  smiled  again  and 
answered,  "that  a  good  son  must  never  disparage  his 
father's  servants."  Whereupon  he  swallowed  the  pa- 
per on  which  the  verse  was  written,  expressed  his 
thanks  for  the  good  supper,  and  departed. 

For  a  long  time  after  this  he  avoided  all  society; 
and  as  often  as  a  stranger  appeared  in  the  circle  of 
his  relatives,  he  suddenly  slipped  out,  and  was  no 
more  to  be  seen;  in  silence  and  solitude  he  would 
worry  away  his  days  and  learn  to  despise  men. 
For  this  latter  course,  however,  he  had  neither 
strength  nor  self-complacency  enough;  he  was  glad 
therefore  to  yield  to  the  urgent  entreaties  of  his  sis- 
ter-in-law and  gradually  gave  himself  up  to  the 
pleasures  of  society. 

With  silent  pleasure  he  often  contemplated  the  be- 
havior of  Rosa.  In  her  nature,  as  in  her  whole 
environment,  all  must  be  ever  orderly,  nay,  sym- 
metrical; at  table,  even  while  she  listened  attentively 
or  spoke  herself  as  one  interested,  she  was  always 
able  to  restore  glasses  and  decanters  to  a  symmet- 
rical position.  At  first  Ephraim  could  not  see  any- 
thing in  all  that  but  a  certain  pedantry,  an  absence 
of  real  sympathy  and  a  housekeeper's  petty  regard 
to  trifles;  but  soon  he  began  to  recognize  in  it  the 


^ 


432  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

kindly  manifestation  of  an  inward  symmetry,  whose 
outward  exactness  had,  as  well  upon  the  somewhat 
impetuous  Nathan  as  upon  himself,  a  most  beneficial 
influence. 

There  was  a  great  party  one  evening  at  Nathan's 
house;  there  was  playing  and  dancing  and  singing; 
Ephraim  stood  leaning  against  a  side-board,  his  arms 
folded  on  his  breast;  he  kept  his  eyes  shut  for  a  long 
time,  and  then  stared  again  out  upon  the  gay 
throng. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  again  ?  "  asked  Rosa, 
approaching  him,  and  contrary  to  her  custom  taking 
his  hand  familiarly. 

"  When  I  look  upon  the  ways  of  men,"  said  Eph- 
raim, "  how  they  smile  upon  each  other,  ogle  each 
other,  while,  after  all,  there  is  nothing  but  falsehood, 
malice  and  fanaticism  behind  it  all,  I  could  willing- 
ly flee  away  into  solitude,  lest  I  should  commit  a 
murder.  Then  I  close  my  eyes,  and  imagine  sudden^ 
ly  that  all  the  people  around  me  were  dead;  that  the 
fiery,  rolling  eyes  were  nerveless;  these  lips  sealed; 
these  glowing-red  cheeks  pale  and  cold;  these  supple 
limbs  rendered  powerless  by  inward  decay;  and  after 
a  while  nothing  were  left  but  a  bald  skull  with 
empty  eye-sockets,  a  fleshless  skeleton  encoflined 
within  four  boards;  instead  of  the  music,  nothing 
but  the  snapping  tick  of  the  gnawing  death-worm; 
hoo!  that  is  horrible!  I  open  my  eyes  and  see  all 
the  fresh,  bounding  life;  and  I  could  fold  every  hu- 
man being  to  my  heart,  because  he  lives;  I  love  him 
because  he  lives;  ah!  it  is  so  beautiful  to  live!  ah! 
it  migJu  he  so  beautiful  I " 


HITHER  AND  THITHER.  433 

"You  torment  yourself  too  horribly  with  these 
night-thoughts,"  answered  Rosa  with  trembling 
voice;  but  Ephraim  went  on: 

"  I  have  yet  one  favor  to  ask  of  you,  dear  sister, 
will  you  promise  me  unconditionally  to  grant  it?" 

"If  it  is  not  against  my  conscience  and  out  of  my 
pow:^er." 

"  It  is  neither.  You  promise  me  that  if  I  should 
be  crazy  and  have  no  longer  the  strength  or  the  con- 
trol of  my  will  to  destroy  myself,  that  you  will  then 
give  me  poison?     Now,  your  hand?" 

"Ah!  you  are  a  tormenting-spirit  and  ought  to 
have  known  long  since  that  I  have  no  mind  for  such 
jests,"  said  Rosa,  and  disappeared  among  the  com- 
pany. 

Again  Ephraim  was  at  a  larger  party.  The  chief 
topic  of  conversation  still  continued  to  be  the  death 
of  Frederick  the  Great,  although  his  successor  Fred- 
erick William  IT.  had  already  for  four  weeks  admin- 
istered the  government,  certainly  the  most  indubita- 
ble proof  of  the  greatness  of  the  late  king. 

"This  year,  1780,  has  taken  another  great  victim, 
I  mean  Moses  Mendelssohn,"  said  Ephraim;  and 
quoted  in  that  connection  the  sentence  set  up  over 
Maimonides  and  transferred  to  Mendelssohn :  From 
Moses  in  Egypt  to  this  Moses,  none  has  arisen  like 
Moses.  All  were  silent  and  looked  round  them  with 
astonishment;  Ephraim  miglit  well  feel  how  out  of 
place  this  observation  was  in  a  circle  which  ^vaa 
ruled  by  wholly  different  sympathies;  by  the  side  of 
a  hero  of  the  world's  history  he  had  set  up  another 
28 


434  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

significant  indeed,  but  infinitely  subordinate  man. 
After  a  pause  he  therefore  added:  "One  pillar  of 
the  age  after  another  sinks  into  the  grave,  the  old 
time  dies  and  a  new  comes;  what  will  it  bring?" 

No  one  answered;  an  officer  drew  a  pamphlet  out 
of  his  pocket;  all  clustered  around  him;  the  officer 
read  Schubert's  hymn;  "The  Death  of  Frederick," 
which  may  perhaps  be  called  the  greatest  master- 
piece of  German  hymnology. 

Ileverential  silence  reigned  in  the  assembly  when 
the  reading  of  the  poem  came  to  an  end;  gradually 
the  most  enthusiastic  praise  of  the  incarcerated  poet 
and  of  Frederick  the  Only  poured  forth  from  all  lips. 
In  the  midst  of  this  inspiration  Ephraim  stood  smil- 
ing, and  intimated  his  differing  sentiments  occasion- 
ally by  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  I  suspect  you  are  of  a  different  opinion,"  said  the 
officer,  stepping  up  to  Ephraim  in  company  with  a 
comrade. 

"  By  all  means." 

Speedily  had  the  company  gathered  around  him. 
"  Let  us  hear  your  view,"  they  insisted  on  all  sides. 

"My  view  is,  that  this  old  Fritz  the  Only  is 
chargeable  with  the  misery  of  a  whole  great  period. 
He  was  a  good  king?  For  all  me;  but  then  they 
will  go  on  believing  for  a  generation  that  they  can 
be  made  happy  by  kings,  the  poetic  eagle-parrots 
and  phiIoso})hic  greyhounds  will  'fetch'  the  stars 
and  wag  their  tails  systematically:  'Hold  your 
jaw!'  'Stupid  stuff!'  'No  reasoning!'  Is  not 
the  Austrian  uniform  handsomer  than  the  Prussian  ? 


HITHER  AXD  THITHER.  435 

Wliy  will  you  slioot  each  other  dejirl  about  that  ?  1 
wisli — I  wish — I  had  a  pair  of  leather  breeches. 
Give  me  thy  cap,  cuckoo,  stick  thy  calves  into  thy 
waistcoat  pocket,  the  cat  bites,  miaow  !  cock-a-doo- 
dle-doo ! " 

"  I've  a  good  mind  to  throw  that  fellow  out  of  the 
window,"  said  the  officer  to  liis  comrade. 

"Dost  thou  not  notice  anything,  then?  he  is  simply 
crazy,"  said  the  other. 

"He's  crazy,"  was  whispered  and  hissed  from 
mouth  to  mouth  through  the  whole  company;  Eph- 
raim  seemed  to  hear  it;  with  glazed  eyes  he  stared 
at  vacancy;  all  gave  way  before  him;  he  stoi)ped 
before  a  large  looking-glass,  from  which  his  whole 
form  stared  out  at  him. 

"  Yes,  there  thou  art,  my  double  ! "  he  cried,  foam- 
ing at  the  mouth  as  he  clenched  his  fist,  "  churl  ! 
thou  art  crazy;  die,  thou  mad  dog;  so!  so!"  he 
dashed  his  fists  and  feet  against  the  glass,  till  the 
pieces  came  rattling  down;  all  were  horror-struck; 
he  leaped  round  furiously,  threw  everything  topsy- 
turvy, yelled  and  raved  at  the  crazy  Ephraim. 

With  great  difficulty  he  was  bound  and  carried 
home. 


28.— HE  IS  MAD. 

HE  who  scourged  so  keenly  the  frailties  and  fol- 
lies of  men,  Swift,  became  toward  the  end  of 
his  days  childish,  and  was  exhibited  by  his  domes- 
tics for  money;  he  who  named  and  classified  the 
countless  plants  on  the  earth's  surface,  Linmeus,  had, 
in  his  last  days,  forgotten  his  own  name;  he  who 
mastered  and  bridled  the  reason  with  his  mighty 
will,  who  imveiled  and  described  its  limits  and  laws, 
Kant,  became,  in  his  last  days,  dull  and  feeble: — we 
stand  here  before  those  awful  depths  of  the  human 
intellect,  whose  bottom  no  explorer's  plummet  has 
ever  yet  sounded. 

In  a  dark,  secluded  chamber  of  the  house  of  Na- 
than sat  Ephraim  in  a  strait- jacket,  raging  and  rav- 
ing against  his  murderer,  till  the  foam  stood  on  his 
lips;  ever  and  again  he  gathered  himself  up  afresh 
and  struck  out  on  all  sides,  cried  and  howled.  At 
last  he  sank  back  exliausted  with  the  words:  "  Good- 
night !     Ephraim  is  dead,  cock-a-doodle-doo  !  " 

In  characteristic  ways  did  the  three  females  now 
manifest  themselves  in  their  relation  to  Ephraim. 


HE  rs  MAD.  437 

Violet  was  the  first  to  visit  liim,  and  yet  she  stood 
the  most  in  fear  of  him;  "but,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "  one  must  not  entertain  fear  or  disgust  at  any 
malady.  Who  shall  nurse  him,  if  I  keep  aloof?" 
With  trembling  heart  but  with  firm  tread  she  went 
into  her  brother's  dark  cell;  she  sat  down  silently 
by  the  attendant;  Ephr^im  lay  on  the  bed,  playing 
with  his  fingers  and  muttering  to  himself:  "There, 
there,  mouse-trap,  thou  hast  caught  Ephraim,  but 
thou  hast  not  got  him;  dost  thou  see,  Ephraim,  clever 
youth,  in  every  village  is  a  mouse-trap,  with  a  tall 
tower,  and  a  black  cat  inside;  swallows  on  the  win- 
dow-sill; peep  in;  down,  thou  rabbinical  goat's- 
beard,  eat  thy  dry  hay;  ow  !  ow !  let  Ephraim  go, 
you  tear  his  heart  out.  Heretic  !  heretic  !  heretic  ! 
die  as  a  dog  dieth  ! " 

With  suppressed  breath  Violet  approached  her 
brother;  he  shrieked  out,  struck  at  her,  cursed  her; 
then  he  asked  her:  "Was  the  shearing  good?  is  the 
wool  already  sorted?  Ephraim  would  be  glad  to  deal 
in  wool,  that  is  all  clear  mortling;  come,  Schnauzerle, 
thou  blackamoor,  must  get  thyself  washed  white  by 
a  priest;  give  Ephraim  back  his  golden  box;  only 
one  pinch,  only  one,  faugh!  that  is  mere  mouse-dung. 
Ephraim  has  devoured  Jerusalem;  if  he  could  only 
bring  it  up  again  out  of  his  body."  He  sank  back- 
it  was  as  if  his  glassy  look  implored  pity;  Violet 
ventured  with  her  transparently  delicate  hand  to 
stroke  the  hair  from  his  forehead;  and  Ephraim  said 
softly;  "  Blow,  blow,  ah!  that  does  me  good;  but  don't 
burn  thyself,  thou  good  child!" 


438  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Now  for  the  first  time  could  Violet  weep,  as  she 
heard  her  brother  speak  so  tenderly;  she  held  her 
hand  on  his  hot  forehead.  "  Dost  thou  not  know  me 
then,  dear  Ephraim?  "  she  asked  with  trembling  voice; 
Ephraim  made  no  answer;  he  chewed,  motionless,  at 
his  coat  sleeve;  but  then  suddenly  he  started  up 
again  and  raved  against  the  two  officers,  who  would 
foully  murder  him;  he  struck  with  all  his  might  at 
Violet  and  ground  his  teeth  at  her.  The  attendant,  a 
sturdy  wool-packer,  drew  Violet  away,  but  she  still 
stood  before  the  door  and  listened;  she  wept  again, 
for  she  seemed  to  hear  her  brother  maltreated  by  the 
rough  fellow;  she  went  to  Nathan  and  begged  for  a 
more  gentle  treatment;  Nathan  went  to  Ephraim. 

"  St!  Hush!  "  cried  the  latter  to  him  as  he  entered: 
"  hearest  thou  how  they  work?  they  are  digging  the 
grave;  they  will  murder  Ephraim." 

"  The  noise  comes  from  the  dyers  who  live  oppo- 
site." 

"Dyers?    whoo!    whoo!    they   require   Ephraim's 
blood,  to  stain  altar-cloths  with  it;  ungag  Ephraim! 
If  father  comes,  he  will  give  you  a  beating. 
"There  wa«  one  time  a  pious  man 
Who  babbled  about  'All's  Well ! ' 

"  Ephraim  is  frozen ;  when  father  comes  he'll  bring  a 
little  nothing  in  a  little  stocking,  because  thou  hast 
not  been  good;  who  is  biting  Ephraim  on  the  tongue? 
There  you  have  dyer's  blood." — lie  spat  out  blood; 
Nathan  had  him  carried  into  another  chamber. 

Rosa,  after  some  days,  transgressed  the  strict  pro- 
hibition of  her  husband;   she  stole  softly  after  the 


HE  IS  MAD.  439 

doctor  into  Ephraim's  chamber,  and  glided  np  almost 
inaudibly  to  the  patient.  AVhen  Ephraim  discovered 
the  slender  form  in  the  white  dress,  he  raised  him- 
self  up  as  well  as  he  could;  his  features  suddenly  as- 
sumed a  fresh  eagerness;  his  breath  trembled;  he 
folded  his  hands  softly  across  his  breast;  his  lips 
moved  as  if  for  prayer. 

"How  are  you,  dear  Ephraim?"  asked  Rosa. 
Ephraim  grasped  her  hand;  a  tear  came  into  his 
wild,  wandering  eye;  sobbing,  he  whispered:  "  Sweet 
Matilda,  art  thou  here?  Ah!  they  have  bound  poor 
Ephraim;  thou  art  going  to  take  him  with  thee,  is  it 
not  so  ?  Whoo!  thou  art  wet!  "  Tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks;  then  he  closed  his  eyes  and  fell  asleep; 
llosa  soon  withdrew  her  hand. 

"  You  are  his  guardian  angel,"  said  the  physician, 
as  he  retired  with  her;  "these  tears  which  he  shed 
give  evidence  that  a  great  commotion  of  the  soul 
has  taken  place  in  him;  they  may  be  the  happy 
crisis;  I  hope  at  least  from  this  time  lucid  intervals. 
You  may  visit  him  now  and  then,  not  often,  and  talk 
very  little.  You  must  also  always  be  dressed  in 
white  when  you  visit  him." 

"  It  is  singular,"  said  Rosa,  "  that  he  calls  me  now 
by  my  second  baptismal  name,  Matilda." 

"  In  maladies  of  this  kind  all  is  singular  or  noth- 
ing," replied  the  doctor.  Rosa  pondered,  however, 
over  the  "  singular  appellation." 

The  lucid  intervals  in  Ephraim's  mental  life  grew, 
in  fact,  more  and  more  marked,  and  now  at  length 
Philippiua  ventured  to  visit  her  cousin  "  Iron-eater." 


i44J0  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

Unwonted  anxiety  and  discomfort  had  tormented 
Philippina  from  the  hour  when  she  heard  of  her 
cousin's  insanity;  she  absohitely  refused  to  visit  him, 
and  said  once:  "I  don't  love  to  see  spectres,  and  a 
crazy  man  is  the  ghost  of  himself."  Her  thoughts, 
however,  she  could  not  prevent  from  having  the 
ghost  of  Ephraim  appear  in  them,  where  it  would 
not  be  conjured  down.  Often  she  would  stop  sud- 
denly in  the  middle  of  her  chamber  and  tie  knots  in 
her  apron-string,  as  she  looked  down  musingly;  she 
had  seen  this  horrible  distraction  of  Ephraim's  com- 
ing on;  she  asked  herself  a  hundred  times  whether 
she  might  not  have  counteracted  it;  a  dreadful  me- 
teor had  fallen  at  her  feet;  she  could  no  longer  gaily 
skip  over  it;  for  hours  together  she  lay  on  her  sofa, 
hid  her  face  in  the  cushions,  and  then  looked  round 
again  with  confused  and  unsteady  glance  at  the  fa- 
miliar objects  about  her.  She  determined  at  last  to 
be  rid  of  the  tormenting  imaginations.  Reality  is 
certainly,  even  in  this  case,  less  horrible  than  the  cre- 
ations of  fantasy,  she  said  to  herself  consolingly,  and 
formed  a  firm  resolve.  Without  giving  an  audible 
hint  of  her  struggle,  she  had  fought  out  the  whole 
battle  within  herself,  and  now  with  her  old  cheer- 
fulness looked  the  new  relation  in  the  face;  the 
world  was  suffered  to  know  nothing  of  the  horrible 
upheaving  within  her,  and  she  herself  had  soon  for- 
gotten it. 

"  One  must  just  take  every  man  for  what  he  is," 
she  said  to  herself;  "the  only  difference  is  that  with 
others  the  lucid  intervals  last  longer."     She  had  her 


HE  IS  MAD.  441 

lute  taken  into  Epliraim's  chamber,  and^oon  followed 
herself.  Ephraim  lay  on  the  bed;  he  had  closed  his 
eyes,  was  playing  with  the  qnilt  and  murmuring  to 
himself  broken  sentences;  ''■Bon  giurno^  Signor  Tre- 
virano — va  banquet — Rabbi  Chananel,  to-morrow  is 
church-festival — come,  fair  countess,  we'll  have  one 
more  dance — ha,  ha,  ha! — thou  hast  a  bat  on  thy 
head,  fy!  fy!  "  He  turned  round  and  greeted  Philip- 
pina.  She  could  not  stir  from  her  seat  for  agitation 
and  alarm;  with  trembling  hand  she  made  a  pass 
over  her  lute;  the  patient  gave  a  nod  of  satisfaction, 
and  Philippina  sang  to  him  one  of  her  favorite  songs, 
to  which  he  hummed  a  low  accompaniment;  Philip- 
pina drew  nearer  to  him. 

"  Are  the  two  lieutenants  still  standing  at  the  door 
down  below  there,  watching  to  kill  Ephraim  ?  "  he 
asked,  mysteriously;  "  they  know  what  I  think;  they 
mean  to  split  my  head  open." 

"  An  hour  ago  they  stood  there,  but  the  command- 
ant, I  hear,  has  ordered  them  to  go  upon  guard- 
duty,"  replied  Philippina,  boldly;  she  gave  to  all 
questions  the  desired  answer,  without  contradicting. 

Ephraim's  condition  improved  but  very  slowly; 
for  though  a  dam  bursts  suddenly  and  abruptly,  it  is 
only  by  little  and  little  and  with  hard  labor  that  it  is 
built  up  again,  and  the  overflowing  flood  led  back 
into  its  wonted  channel.  Ephraim's  kinsfolk,  how-, 
ever,  soon  accustomed  themselves  to  this  situation; 
for  no  state  of  things  is  so  sad  and  oppressive  that 
one  does  not,  when  it  has  continued  a  considerable 
while,  sometimes  forget  it.     They  went  about  their 


442  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

usual  occupations,  nay,  even  their  usual  enjoyments: 
they  even  laughed,  half  sadly,  at  the  fantastically 
jumbled  phrases  of  the  patient;  only  on  Violet's 
face  one  noticed  not  even  the  faintest  smile,  even 
when  her  brother  did  and  said  the  most  absurd  and 
ridiculous  things. 

There  was  once  a  family  gathering  at  Nathan's. 
"  Now  for  the  first  time  one  becomes  really  acquaint- 
ed with  Ephraim,"  remarked  Nathan  Frederick;  "he 
hates  all  men,  and  speaks  it  out  freely;  children  and 
fools  tell  the  truth." 

"That  is  not  true,"  replied  Philippina;  "they 
merely  tell  their  truth;  if  a  fool  or  a  child  says  to 
me:  '  Thou  art  a  frog,'  am  I  therefore  a  frog  ?  No; 
but  he  has  spoken  his  truth;  most  other  men  say  all 
the  year  round  things  which  they  have  either  learned 
from  books  or  heard  from  others,  and  these  are  pre- 
cisely the  things  on  which  they  insist  the  most  stiff- 
neckedly.  My  old  music  teacher  plumed  himself  the 
most  upon  his  skill  in  drawing  and  his  mathematical 
accomplishments,  precisely  because  he  had  made  him- 
self master  of  all  that  with  great  labor;  whereas 
music  was  originally  his  own.  With  so-called  crazy 
people  the  original  inner  being  is  turned  immediate- 
ly outward;  they  babble  everything  that  is  in  their 
thoughts,  without  having  first  filtered  it;  I  have  oft- 
en thought  if,  all  of  a  sudden,  all  the  thoughts, 
without  distinction,  which  during  the  day  pass 
through  a  man's  head,  if  all  of  them  suddenly  were 
put  into  words,  or  were  uttered  without  an  act  of 
the  will,  every  one  would  run  away  from  himself 


shocked  at  licnring  what  crazy  stuff  wa^ludgyQ  in 
his  brain.  Our  whole  reason  lies  in  the  little  bit  of 
self-mastery." 

No  one  followed  the  burlesque  jumps  of  Philip- 
pina,  and  she  went  on  with  her  discourse:  "  Now  I 
have  come  to  the  point  of  showing  why  I  am  no 
longer  afraid  of  the  sight  of  a  crazy  person.  The 
first  time  I  was  ever  in  a  windmill  I  was  seized  with 
an  inexpressible  confusion  and  alarm;  the  whole 
building  trembled;  there  were  the  wheels  moving, 
beams  turning  round;  the  great  millstone-maw  was 
whirling  about;  there  was  such  a  groaning  and  clat- 
tering; all  was  so  uncanny,  so  spectral,  I  thought  I 
must  needs  fall  in  myself,  till  the  miller  explained  to 
me  how  one  thing  worked  into  another.  And  so, 
too,  I  have  found  it  in  regard  to  the  insanity  of  our 
cousin  Ephraim;  I  have  even  sought  to  get  behind 
the  uncanny  snarl,  and  our  doctor,  like  the  miller, 
has  explained  all  to  me,  and  now  I  am  no  more 
frightened  and  look  on  with  perfect  composure." 

All  were  silent;  Rosa  bent  over  to  her  sister  Vio- 
let and  asked  her  softly,  handing  her  a  parcel  of 
worsted,  with  what  color  she  should  shade  the  dark 
green  in  her  embroidery;  Nathan  walked  up  and 
down  the  chamber,  shaking  his  head.  "For  all  the 
unhappiness  of  our  Ephraim,"  he  said  at  last,  half  in 
soliloquy,  "Judaism  alone  is,  after  all,  to  blame;  it  is 
of  itself  a  madness  to  remain  in  a  fortress  which  the 
advancing  army  leaves  unconcernedly  behind  it,  be- 
cause it  must  at  last  starve  or  surrender.  As  well 
the  insight  of  the  Bible  prophets,  as  the  world's 


444  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

history,  impels  one  to  our  faith;  here  alone  is  peace 
and  blessedness." 

Philippina  had  already  opened  her  mouth  to  re- 
mark to  Nathan  how  great  is  the  force  of  habit 
he  had  gone  over  without  faith,  and  now  he  had  al 
ready  advanced  even  to  the  stage  of  proselytism. 
She  remembered,  however,  in  good  season  how  un- 
edifying  was  this  everlasting  clutching  at  great 
questions;  she  only  smiled  and  played  with  her 
locks.  Nathan  appeared  to  have  observed  this  dis- 
satisfaction of  Philippina's;  he  now  informed  her 
that  according  to  her  advice  he  had  gone  to  the 
Commandant;  that  he,  an  amiable  man,  had  will- 
ingly fallen  in  with  the  j^roposal  and  might  be  ex- 
pected at  any  moment.  The  Commandant  came; 
he  informed  Ephraim  that  he  had  sent  the  two 
officers  who  had  had  design  on  his  life  under  arrest 
to  the  fortification.  Ephraim  smiled  and  remarked 
with  great  composure  that  this  fear  of  his  persecu- 
tors was  only  a  part  of  his  disorder;  that  the  most 
painful  part  of  it  was  that  no  thought  would  any 
longer  keep  any  foothold  with  him,  and  he  wonder- 
fully supplemented  the  explanation  of  Philippina  by 
complaining  that  he  could  no  longer  think  without 
uttering  his  thoughts  in  words,  since  otherwise  the 
thoughts  shot  through  each  other  in  a  perfect  whirl, 
and  how  again  he  was  frightened  at  the  words  which 
he  heard  from  himself  and  yet  could  not  silence. 

Ephraim  had  scratches  on  his  face,  which  he  ex- 
plained by  saying  that  he  had  done  it  himself.  In 
the  dead  of  night  he  was  almost  suffocated,  he  said, 


HE  IS  WAD.  ...   , 

by  the  swarm  of  raving,  miirSrous"lTiaQg1its,'"an< 
he  had  an  intense  longing  for  bodily  pain,  tlial  it 
might  deliver  him  from  them.  During  the  last 
night  it  had  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  body  were  dead, 
insensible;  then  he  had  violently  dug  into  his  face 
with  his  nails  and  had  found  relief  when  he  felt  the 
trickling  of  blood  and  a  bodily  pain. 

Now,  at  length,  he  was  induced  to  obey  the  direc- 
tions of  the  physician,  and  to  take,  accompanied  by 
his  watcher,  a  walk  in  the  open  air.  In  the  street  he 
greeted,  right  and  left,  all  whom  he  met,  whether  he 
knew  them  or  not,  and  gave  them  a  friendly  smile; 
the  people  would  stop  for  a  few  seconds,  and  look 
after  him  with  wonder,  and  then  each  one  would  go 
on  his  way  again. 

A  quiet  melancholy  and  shyness  of  men  seemed  to 
take  possession  of  Ephraim.  For  hours  together  he 
would  sit  with  his  chin  resting  on  his  hand,  mutter- 
ing to  himself  unintelligible  words;  then  he  would 
rave  and  rage  again  at  all  present;  people  gradually 
became  accustomed  to  this,  and  would  then  leave 
him  alone.  Here  in  his  solitude,  at  such  times,  the 
inner  cloud  would  often  suddenly  lift  and  the  sky 
light  up,  and  he  would  become  conscious  of  his  con- 
dition, and  once,  after  a  frightful  out-break  of 
frenzy  he  wrote  the  following  "Thoughts  occasion- 
ed by  certain  calamities:" 

"  Upon  his  back  the  world  stout  Atlas  bore. 
I  bear  a  world  of  grief,  full  sad  and  sore ; 
Yet  thee  great  Jove,  for  this  I  thank : 
Beneath  my  load  I  never  sank." 


446  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

His  mind  was  able  to  handle  again  the  old  ready- 
made  forms  of  the  usual  poetic  style  and  metre;  he 
had,  through  word  and  sign,  detached  his  condition 
from  himself  and  set  it  before  him  as  an  object  of 
recognition,  and  here  for  the  first  time  he  found 
again  the  notion  and  the  word,  "  I ".  With  the  rec- 
ognition of  himself  came  back  to  him  also  the  cliang- 
ing  forms  of  the  outer  world,  and  threw  their  light 
reflection  upon  the  mirror  of  his  consciousness,  but 
he  turned  away  from  them.  More  and  more,  in  the 
spirit  of  a  recluse,  did  he  bury  himself  in  the  se- 
cluded world  of  his  past  history;  coldly  and  indiffer- 
ently he  held  the  life  around  him  as  not  worth  a 
glance;  he  was  calm  and  quiet;  death  had  but  a 
scanty  remnant  of  life  to  glean  from  him. 

In  this  seclusion  Ephraim  also  failed  to  observe 
that  his  sister  Violet  had  not  visited  him  for  several 
weeks;  Philippina,  too,  came  seldom,  and  for  the 
most  part  with  a  troubled  countenance;  she  came 
from  Violet's  sick-bed.  So  long  as  Ephraim's  in- 
sanity had  lasted,  Violet  had  lived  in  a  feverish  ex- 
citement; day  and  night  she  went  through,  in  sym- 
pathy, with  all  the  sufferings  of  her  brother's  soul. 
Throusrh  all  this  ran  the  consciousness  of  her  own 
miscarried  life.  Often  she  rose  at  night  from  her 
bed,  stretched  out  her  hands  to  heaven  and  prayed 
for  death;  no  one  ansAvered  her  voice;  then  she  woke 
her  maid,  and  chatted  with  her  about  one  thing  and 
another.  Now,  when  all  seemed  to  have  come  back 
into  the  old  track,  Violet  lay  prostrate  with  a 
severe  sickness,  a  fiery  fever  consumed  her  wasted 
life;  Philippina  hardly  ever  left  her  sick-bed. 


HE  IS  MAD.  447 

One  noonday  black  rain  clouds  hung  in  heaven, 
when  Ephraim  unexpectedly  desired  an  excursion  into 
the  open  air;  Nathan  accompanied  him.  Unluckily 
they  passed  along  before  the  Jewisli  burial-ground. 
"I  will  see  the  graves  of  our  parents,"  said  Ephraim, 
stopping;  Nathan  tried  to  hold  him  back,  but  Ephraim 
tore  himself  away,  climbed  up  the  wall,  and  jumped 
down;  Nathan  hurried  after  him.  His  hands  clasped 
above  his  head,  Ephraim  flung  himself  face  down- 
ward on  the  grave  of  his  father;  long  he  lay  there, 
without  stirring;  Nathan  looked  on  thou.vhtfully;  at 
last  he  endeavored  to  rouse  his  brother,  but  the  latter 
gently  waved  him  ofi:  with  his  hand,  and  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  could  be  drawn  away  from  the 
grave.  When  he  was  again  on  his  feet,  he  once  more 
looked  round;  an  open  grave  stood  not  far  from  that 
of  his  father.  "Is  that  for  me?"  asked  Ephraim; 
and  he  leaped  down  and  laid  himself  on  the  damp 
ground.  "Ho!  ho!  it  is  too  short,  dear  brother;  cut 
off  my  head,  then  I  shall  just  go  in."  Nathan  stood 
there  in  despair;  he  cried  for  help;  just  then  the  gate 
opened,  and  six  men  brought  in  a  bier;  the  whole 
congregation  followed;  Ephraim  had  raised  himself 
up.  "  Whom  are  ye  bringing  here  to  my  parents?  "  he 
cried  out  from  the  mouth  of  the  grave  to  the  aj)- 
proaching  train;  all  shrank  back  with  terror;  the  men 
placed  the  bier  on  the  ground. 

"Tliy  sister  Violet!"  then  cried  all,  as  with  one 
mouth. 

Ephraim  was  lifted  up  out  of  the  grave;  he  fell 
weeping  on  his  brother's  neck;  then  he  threw  him- 


44  8  POE  T  A  ND  MERC  HA  NT. 

self  down  and  tore  the  cover  from  the  bier  and  kiss- 
ed the  dead  lips  of  his  sister,  begged  a  thousand  times 
her  forgiveness,  wept  and  cried  and  rolled  on  the 
ground. 

Nathan  stood  aside  petrified  with  horror;  no  one 
said  a  word  to  him ;  he  might  well  have  felt  what  it 
means  in  life  as  in  death  to  be  severed  from  one's 
kindred. 

Violet  was  buried;  Ephraim  had  thrown  in  the  first 
clod  of  earth  npon  her  cofiin ;  he  was  led  home  by  two 
men.  A  whole  day  and  night  he  sat  upon  the  floor ;  his 
lips  never  once  oj^ened  either  to  take  food  or  to  speak 
a  word. 


29.— RELEASE. 

THE  death  of  Violet,  and  an  inner  exhaustion 
which  scarcely  ever  left  him  again,  gave  to  re- 
turning life  in  Ephraim  a  peculiar  character.  By 
the  careful  nursing  of  his  health  he  had  now  to 
bring  his  life  into  the  tranquil  and  natural  condition, 
and  this  reminder  became  to  him  by  degrees  a 
pleasure. 

In  an  arm-chair  under  the  broad  shade  of  the 
weeping-willows  in  Nathan's  garden  sat  Ephraim 
all  day  long,  silently  brooding  over  his  own  thouglits. 
From  his  wild  and  wayward  rovings  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  human  life  he  had  come  back 
home  to  the  steadfast  continent,  and  a  tree  was  his 
companion.  From  his  survey  of  the  spiritual  pro- 
ducts of  all  ages  and  countries,  one  single  book  at 
last  still  lingered  in  his  hand,  on  which  the  child's 
eye  had  long  ago  rested,  whose  words  his  boyish  lips 
had  long  ago  uttered;  it  was — the  Psalms  of  David. 

He  read  them  in  the  original  language;  and  these 
words,  these  tones  awoke  an  echo  out  of  his  long 
vanished  youth,  and  renewed  a  refreshing  spriug- 
f raffrance  of  life. 


450  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

And  as  the  tree  above  him  inclined  its  twigs  to 
ward  the  earth  again,  in  which  its  roots  sprouted,  so 
was  it  to  him  with  his  life  and  thought. 

Many  a  time,  too,  he  compared  Moses  Mendels- 
sohn's translation  of  the  Psalms  with  the  original, 
and  he  transported  himself  alternately  into  the  life 
of  the  royal  singer  and  that  of  the  philosopher,  who 
in  his  painful  afflictions  made  himself  a  way  of  de- 
liverance by  bringing  over  the  words  of  David  into 
the  German  mother-tongue. 

Often  they  heard  Ephraim  in  the  night  singing  a 
Hebrew  psalm;  and  even  Nathan,  who  did  not  like 
to  have  anything  remind  his  children  of  Judaism, 
was  touched  by  the  fervor  of  the  tone  and  let  his 
brother  have  his  way. 

The  persistency  with  which  Ephraim,  from  the 
beginning  of  spring  onward,  chose  now  to  sit  only 
in  the  garden  under  the  willow,  might  also  pass  for 
a  symptom  of  disease,  but  the  peace  which  thereby 
came  over  him  prevented  all  interference. 

It  was  in  August,  when  in  the  heavy  sultriness  of 
noonday  a  violent  tempest  suddenly  broke  out  in  the 
heavens;  the  first  anxiety  of  all  the  inmates  of  the 
house  was  to  get  Ephraim  under  the  shelter  of  the 
roof;  but  he  repelled  them  with  all  his  might  and 
persisted  in  sitting  quietly  there  under  the  willow. 
And  when  the  storm  had  passed  over,  they  found 
him  in  a  soft  slumber,  and  in  his  hand  a  leaf  of 
paper,  on  which  were  the  words:  "Praise  to  God 
after  a  short,  but  violent  thunder-storm: 


RELEASE.  451 

**  My  soul,  thy  fleshly  fetters  breaking, 
To  new  and  nobler  life  awaking, 

Up  by  a  path  no  fowl  hath  known. 
On  wings  of  faith  and  wonder  soaring, 
Creation's  ladder  climb,  adoring, 

Up  toward  the  great  Creator's  throne !  " 

Peace  with  God  had  from  this  time  forth  entered 
into  possession  of  Ephraim's  breast;  he  had  found  it 
again  in  the  devout  contemplation  of  nature;  with 
the  human  beings  around  him,  with  their  manners 
and  customs,  he  also  became  more  and  more  recon- 
ciled; the  tenderness  of  his  soul's  mood  suffered  now 
only  soft  tones  to  wake  an  echo  within  him;  he 
found  men  to  be,  he  felt  himself  to  be,  better  and 
nobler.  All  met  him  with  tender  and  affectionate 
regard.  As  the  deaf  man  thinks  he  hears  better 
again  because  every  one,  knowing  his  trouble, 
speaks  to  him  more  distinctly,  so  too  it  fared  with 
Ephraim;  people  knew  his  shyness  and  his  sadness; 
every  one  was  glad  to  meet  him  with  friendship  and 
civility,  and  he  could  thereby  come  bettor  and  bet- 
ter to  recognize  the  actual  virtue  of  men.  Kecon- 
ciled  and  converted  he  went  forward  to  meet  his 
end,  and  out  of  the  fullness  of  his  soul  he  prayed 
to  God: 

"With  love  for  each  my  bosom  fill. 
Whose  being  came  from  Thee; 
Let  him  adore  Thee  as  he  will, 
If  but  Thy  child  he  be. 

"When  my  last  hour  of  life  draws  near, 
And  death's  stern  call  shall  come. 
Then  let  the  thought  my  spirit  cheer: 
My  father  calls  me  home !  " 


452  POE  T  A  ND  MER  CHA  NT. 

In  reliance  npon  God  and  the  virtue  of  individuals 
he  sought  to  forget  those  devices  of  the  world  which 
so  often  contradict  that  sentiment;  he  dared  to  liope, 
even  though  the  hope  might  in  his  day  never  be  f  ul- 
lilled. 

With  manly  fortitude  he  now,  also,  endured  the 
sufferings  which  he  was  still  destined  to  meet;  a 
shock  of  paralysis  came  upon  him,  which  lamed  his 
whole  right  side  and  his  organs  of  speech.  There 
he  lay  now,  and  could  with  his  left  hand  and  by 
signs  only,  with  difficulty  intelligible,  express  his 
wishes.  Tranquillity  and  silent  resignation  spoke  in 
his  countenance;  often  he  laid  his  left  hand  on  his 
breast,  his  eyes  turned  upward;  he  prayed  for  death. 
No  more,  as  in  former  days,  would  he  have  defiantly 
challenged  him;  he  awaited  patiently  his  end.  Out 
in  the  world  the  carriages  rattled,  the  drum  beat  for 
the  march  of  the  soldiers,  mechanics  whistled  lively 
airs  as  they  went  about  their  work,  happy  people 
sauntered  under  the  green  domes  of  the  trees,  the 
lark  soared  trilling  into  the  sky — and  here,  in  the 
solitary  chamber  was  heard  nothing  but  the  regular 
tick  of  the  clock,  the  vanishing  of  time  and  the 
footsteps  of  approaching  death;  here  was  no  life, 
save  the  scanty  breath  on  Ephraim's  lips.  But  such 
is  the  might  of  the  spirit,  that  he,  bound  to  his 
earthly  integument,  yet  can  soar  away  far  above  it, 
and  sweep  unfettered  through  the  universe;  one 
could  see  by  the  changeful  play  of  Ephraim's  feat- 
ures, that  he  was  now  here,  now  there,  in  space  and 
time. 


RELEASE.  453 

When  he  recovered  the  use  of  liis  vocal  organs 
he  said  to  his  sister-in-law,  who  nursed  liim  witli 
self-sacrificing  solicitude:  "I  bear  this  sickness  far 
more  easily  than  the  previous  one,  when  the  shock 
affected  my  spirit;  it  is  not  true  that  it  is  a  blessing 
to  lose  one's  consciousness;  consciousness  alone,  and 
though  it  were  that  of  pain,  is  life." 

Rosa  sat  the  chief  part  of  the  day  by  Ephraim's 
sick-bed;  she  sought  in  every  way  to  entertain  him; 
she  told  stories,  she  read  to  him,  nay,  contrary  to 
her  former  habit,  she  even  indulged  in  lively  jests. 

One  day  Ephraim  had  sunk  to  sleep;  "art  thou 
here,  Matilda?"  he  cried,  on  waking;  Rosa  started 
with  a  shudder,  she  feared  a  relapse  into  his  mad- 
ness, as  he  had  called  her  then  by  that  name;  Epli- 
raim  was  silent  for  a  while,  his  lips  moved,  he  beg- 
ged his  sister-in-law  to  take  pen  and  ink  in  hand, 
and  dictated: 

"When  sore  woes  and  pains  oppressed  me 

And  heart-gnawing  cares  distressed  me, 

Like  an  armed  man,  frightfully, 

Then  came  fell  despair  on  me. 

Lo!  a  soft-eyed  maid  advances, 

And  before  her  radiant  glances 

That  dark  foe  affrighted  fled  ; 

Then,  with  grateful  rapture  fired, 
'Whence,  who  art  thou?'  I  inquired; 
'Patience  is  my  name'— she  said." 

He  requested  the  sheets  to  be  brought  to  him,  on 
which  in  a  neat  handwriting  he  had  inscribed  his 
poems;  with  a  melancholy  look  he  contemplated 
these   few   leaves;   in  them  lay   all   the    gain   and 


454  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

achicA'ement  of  a  whole  life.  Neither  chilclreii  nor 
grandchildren  will  one  day  revert  to  their  ancestor 
and  seek  the  spot  where  his  remains  were  committed 
to  the  dust;  without  leaving  a  trace  of  his  footsteps 
he  had  passed  over  the  earth,  only  these  lines  might 
one  day  bear  witness  that  here  a  soul  had  lived  and 
suffered,  wept  and  laughed,  to  sink  at  last  into  the 
arms  of  death. 

With  smiling  mien  he  now  almost  day  by  day 
turned  over  the  leaves  of  these  manuscripts;  often 
he  paused;  he  conjured  up  before  him  the  hour  and 
the  circumstances  in  which  he  composed  such  and 
such  lines;  as  he  had  spell-bound  this  fleeting  into 
poesy  for  sport  and  pleasure,  and  in  such  wise 
doubly  enjoyed  it,  so  now  it  rose  before  him  in  a 
third  resurrection,  as  he  confronted  life  itself  as  well 
as  the  poetry  which  mirrored  it,  as  things  far  off  and 
foreign  to  him;  often,  however,  even  the  original 
occasion  of  such  a  poem  floated  before  him  only  as 
the  vision  of  a  dream;  out  of  reality  and  fancy  he 
had  created  a  third  thing;  this  third  thing  alone  re- 
mained now  all  that  was  true  for  him;  the  arche- 
types had  vanished  and  melted  away.  Sorrowfully 
he  once  named  his  whole  life,  "nothing  but  a  bound 
book;"  the  old  propensity  to  have  a  firm  and  im- 
mediate foothold  in  life,  as  it  shapes  itself  in  domes- 
tic and  civil  society,  seemed  not  yet  to  have  wholly 
gone  to  sleep  within  him. 

To  no  one  but  his  sister-in-law  did  he  confide  his 
dearest  jewel,  his  poems;  he  therefore  often  called 
Rosa,  playfully,  his  "  soul-keeper  Chloe."     Kosa's  in- 


RELEASE.  455 

defatigable  care  and  watchfulness  had  in  fact  any- 
thing but   a  pastoral  character,  but  the  tenderest 
breath  of  love  ennobled  and  glorified  all  her  doings; 
not  more  tender  and  fervent  appears  the  maiden 
^hen,   with   graceful   modesty,   she   binds   a   fresh 
wreath  of  flowers  around  the  floating  locks  of  her  lov- 
ed one's  forehead,  than  Rosa  appeared  here,  when  she 
put  upon  the  head  of  her  brother-in-law,  who  could 
not  move  his  limbs,  the  prosaic  night-cap.     Ephraim 
was  a  passionate  snuff -taker;  his  lameness  disabled 
him  from  this  enjoyment;  but  Rosa  found  a  resort; 
with  a  half -sportive,  half-sympathetic  smile,  she  laid 
the  grains  of  tobacco-dust  on  the  delicate  palm  of  her 
white  hand,  with  her  left  she  raised  his  head  from 
the  pillow,  and  with  the  right  hand  let  him  snuff  it 
up.     Ephraim  stared  at  her,  and  expressed  his  thanks 
only  by  a  soft  inclination  of  the  eyelashes;  he  might 
well  have  felt  how  this  soul,  so  full  of  love  and 
kindness,  so  unassuming  and  contented  in  all  her 
doing,  turned  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the 
left  to  see  whether  others  would  think  it  comely.     * 
When  Ephraim  could  speak  again,  Rosa  soon  dis- 
covered that  he  liked  to  converse  about  his  poems; 
not  from  love  of  poetry,  but  only  to  give  the  sick 
man  a  pleasure,  she  read  the  poems  of  Ephraim;  she 
could  not,  herself,  enter  into  this  way  of  thinking; 
nay,  there  was  much  that  displeased  and  offended 
her  in  it.     She,  however,  once  remarked  to  Ephraim: 
"I  have  wondered  at  not  having  yet  found  among 
your  poems  any  one  about  the  merchant's  life." 
This  simple  observation  struck  Ephraim  very  deep- 


456  POET  AND  MERCHANT, 

ly,  and  half  in  vexation  lie  wrote  that  very  evening  on 
the  last  page  of  his  blank  book: 

*'This  little  book's  my  shop;  the  goods  I  with  me  carry 
Are  epigrams ;  whoso  has  use  for  them,  come  buy. 
But,  good  folks,  if  there's  naught  that  takes  your  eye, 
Go  to  another  shop,  pray  do  not  tarry." 

He  had  at  last,  in  some  measure,  fought  his  way 
to  a  certain  unity,  he  stood  as  merchant  in  poe- 
try; he  showed  his  brother  Nathan  the  advertise- 
ment he  had  drawn  up  for  himself;  Nathan  smiled 
approvingly  and  then  gave  him  an  account  of  what 
was  going  on  in  the  world.  The  affairs  of  the  coun- 
try had  not  much  to  offer  of  more  than  transient  in- 
terest; the  controversies  with  Holland  were  lost  in 
details  and  cabinet-mysteries.  "  Will  Neckar  keep 
his  place  in  the  French  Cabinet  ?  Will  the  nobility, 
the  clergy  and  the  third  estate  form  a  coalition?" 
Such  were  the  oft-handled  questions.  Nathan  loved 
to  assume  the  air  of  an  expert  financier,  and  he 
plumed  himself  not  a  little  upon  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  chosen  to  the  office  of  auditor  in  the  city  treas- 
ury. Philippina,  too,  was  fond  of  taking  part  in 
this  conversation;  she  was  an  industrious  newspaper- 
reader;  Rosa  alone  took  no  interest  in  all  this. 

Here,  in  remote  Silesia,  in  the  si(;k-chamber  of  a 
man  whose  life  was  slowly  ebbing  away,  here  did 
the  transactions  of  the  French  National  Assembly 
find  a  clear  and  manifold  echo,  for  it  was  the  first 
time  that  things  were  discussed  by  the  law-givers  of 
Europe,  which  in  books  and  social  gatherings  had 
long  been  put  into  words. 


RELEASE.  457 

It  was  a  hot  summer  noon,  "The  people  of  Pari? 
liave  stormed  the  Bastille,"  cried  Nathan,  rushing  in 
with  excited  face.  "  Listen! "  He  drew  a  letter  from 
his  pocket,  and  read  a  report  of  that  memorable  event, 
which  may  be  regarded  as  the  first  rolling  particle, 
which  in  process  of  time  swelled  into  the  mighty  av- 
alanche. 

The  eyes  of  the  Avhole  cultivated  world  were  turned 
upoiT  Versailles  and  Paris;  the  Declaration  of  Human 
Rights  as  the  base  of  the  new  constitution,  won,  es- 
pecially in  Germany,  countless  votaries  to  the  new  or- 
der of  things;  for  here,  particularly,  one  could  not 
fail  to  hail  it  as  a  victory  when  one  saw  philoso})hy 
and  humanity  exalted  to  be  the  law  of  the  state;  that 
was  indeed  already  discussed  in  schools  and  books 
in  manifold  forms.  Only  when  it  came  to  innovations 
in  individual  and  definite  titles  were  discordant  tones 
audible.  Klopstock  greeted  the  new  day  in  a  lofty 
ode;  all  were  full  of  joyful  expectation.  As  here  in 
the  sick-chamber  of  Ephraim,  so  was  there  in  all 
places  and  in  all  families  a  sympathetic  excitement 
of  men's  minds. 

Often  too  did  Ephraim  murmur  to  himself  in  He- 
brew the  words  of  the  Prophet  Zachariah:  (xiv.  7.)  : 
"  And  at  eventide  it  shall  be  light."  Once  more  life 
seemed  to  flare  up  in  him  like  an  expiring  lamp. 

"Woe  is  me  that  I  am  dead,"  he  once  lamented  ; 
"here  must  I  lie  in  a  trance;  I  lioar  the  steps  of  the 
beloved  on  the  stairs,  and  cannot  hasten  to  meet  her; 
cannot  stretch  out  to  her  my  hand;  I  hear  peo])le 
talking,  acting,  fighting  round  about  me;  I  hear  and 


458  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

feel  all  tins  and  cannot  rouse  myself  up  to  take  my 
place  among  them:  I  would  that  I  were  dead!  nay, 
only  one  day  more  would  I  live,  wholly  live,  and  die 
in  battle!  I  thank  Thee,  oh  God!  Lord  and  Father! 
that  thou  hast  preserved  me  in  pain  and  sorrow,  and 
spared  me  to  behold  this  new  day!  I  see  the  dawn  of 
the  morning;  I  hear  millions  of  trumpets  sounding; 
the  earth  trembles  down  to  its  deepest  heart;  spectres 
flee,  chains  break,  the  scaly  armor  falls  from  the 
breasts  of  men;  there  is  no  more  prejudice  nor  injus- 
tice, and  in  silent  embrace  they  feel,  breast  to  breast, 
their  hearts  beating  alike.  Away  with  all  tlie  rub- 
bish ;"  he  cried,  and  threw  his  poems  which  lay  on 
the  table,  down  upon  the  floor;  "only  one  more  song 
would  I  sing,  my  swan-song,  and  then  die.  I  con- 
jure you,  bury  me  not  in  a  trance;  thrust  a  knife  in- 
to my  bosom,  here! " 

Such  excitement  exercised  the  most  pernicious  in- 
fluence upon  Ephraim's  condition;  he  would  then  lie 
there  for  hours  together,  and  only  his  short  breath- 
ing would  give  sign  of  life.  They  w^ould  fain  have 
concealed  from  him  the  events  of  the  day;  but  he  al- 
ways insisted  stormily  upon  exact  reports.  Nathan 
was  once  complaining  of  the  horrible  murders  which 
were  committed  by  the  liberated  people,  and  that  so 
many  men,  even  innocent  ones  among  them,  must  fall 
victims. 

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"  cried  Ephraim;  "  did  not 
all  the  world  shout  and  sing  jubilee  and  extol  the 
hero  to  heaven,  because  so  many  thousands  of  men 
had  to  die,  that  Silesia  might  be  Prussian  or  Aus- 


RELEASE.  459 

trian  ?  May  not  men  die  now,  too  ?  Eagle  or  cock- 
erel; cock-a-doodle-doo! " — 

Nathan  shook  his  head  compassionately;  his 
brother  had  again  gone  mad;  he  wished  for  his 
death,  which  indeed  drew  nearer  with  every  beat  of 
the  pulse.  Spring  came  on;  Ephraim  grew  weaker 
and  weaker.  "I  feel  it,"  he  said  one  day  to  liosa; 
"  I  shall  never  more  see  the  spring  flowers;  they  will 
grow  out  of  my  grave."  Rosa  covered  her  face  in 
silence,  and  sought  to  console  him,  but  he  begged 
her  to  write;  he  would  dictate  his  epitaph;  he  beg- 
ged so  fervently  that  Rosa  wrote  with  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

The  next  day  Rosa  sat  again  b}^  the  sick-bed  of 
her  brother-in-law;  the  sick  man  hardly  breathed;  a 
fresh  nosegay  of  violets  lay  on  his  bed-quilt;  Rosa 
had  herself  gathered  them  in  the  garden.  Epliraim 
awoke;  he  looked  round  with  astonishment;  he  saw 
the  flowers  on  his  bed;  he  seized  them  with  trembling 
hand  and  pressed  them  to  his  lips;  he  lifted  himself 
np  in  the  bed  with  all  his  might,  grasped  Rosa's 
hand,  pressed  and  kissed  it  passionately. 

"I  love  thee,  Matilda!"  he  groaned,  and  sank 
back  on  his  pillow;  Rosa  cried  for  help.  In  the 
course  of  an  hour  Ephraim  had  sunk  to  the  sleep  of 
death. 

Men  bury  their  dead;  Ephraim,  too,  was  buried. 
Rosa  had  woven  a  laurel-wreatli  around  his  liead; 
the  Jewish  grave-diggers  tore  it  off,  for  the  Jewisli 
ceremonial  tolerates  no  such  adornments. 

lu  the  Jewish  "  Good-place  "  at  Breslau  is  a  grave 


460  POET  AND  MERCHANT. 

on  which  is  inscribed  in  Hebrew  letters  the  name  of 
Ephraim  Moses  Kuli,  and  beneath  it  the  epitaph 
composed  by  himself: 

*'  Here  lies  the  poet,  Kuh, 
Who,  now  by  fate  malicious, 
And  now  by  luck  capricious, 
Was  teased;  his  war  is  through." 
******* 
On  the  steep  declivities  and  in  the  open  passes  of 
the  mountains  one  meets  with  carved  wooden  pillars, 
on  which  are  inscribed  the  names  of  those  who  were 
here  crushed  by  wheels,  overwhelmed  by  avalanches, 
or  frozen  in  blinding  snow-drifts.     Some  more  com- 
passionate than  cunning  hand  paints  the  incident  in 
glaring  colors,  and  devout  piety  begs  a  prayer  and 
the  benediction  of  a  remembrance  from  the  passing 
traveler,  who  now  treads  the  same  road   in  bright 
sunshine  and  in  the  fresh  breath  of  the  mountain. 

Not  by  a  sudden  and  overwhelming  shock  has  a 
man  here  sunk  in  death;  often  cast  down,  he  had 
gathered  himself  up  again,  and  toiled  along  to  the 
end.  In  seclusion  and  solitude  has  he  breathed 
away  his  existence,  and  here  the  carved  image  is  set 
up  in  his  memory. 


THE  END. 


94 


0'.t->ber,  I>8|. 


UNIVERSITY  OP  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


No.    I. 

p. 
No.  2.._ 
No.  3. 

No.  4. 
No.   5.- 


disci"-' 

The  K,-    , 
thrun.-h  1 
three  asp; 
reachiii" 
and  III  ' 
^eiinii! 


chronic 

upon  Vim 

the  dull  L- 
able  c)i:.r: 
its  pur) MIS 
•'  [5:1 
painto'i   I' 

Cism  prlH 

the  while 
(■Sling  (Ml 
Hash  0I  p; 
churiij  i- 

I.a.s«i<.i).  -A 
H!c«('illy  t 
pL'accfnlv 
•'All' 
work.''--  / 


"It   is 
to  a  Knirb    A 

which  • 
the  hir 
a  <'los(  ? 

OIU'  th: 
shoil  M 
Htllili   '   ; 

Hmiio,    Al 
1(1)11..,   L. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


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JJECEWED 


c^ 


CIBPULATION  OEPT. 

NOV  -.77  ^^^^'^  1994 


9  i  ■'^Vi  *^^'-^ 


AUG  2  4*5' 

1  /  . 


ts 


UBRARYUSf 


NOV  2  7  Z004 


30m 


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